


a man may make a remark

by ShanaStoryteller



Series: where thou art, that is home [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Artist Derek, BAMF Allison, BAMF Scott, BAMF Stiles, F/M, M/M, Magic Stiles, THE STEREK IS REAL, gratuitous use of poetry, guys it's finally here, look just read it okay, pretty much everyone is BAMF, theres a unicorn named charlie, they have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaStoryteller/pseuds/ShanaStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's an alpha, the Argents are back in town, Stiles's magic won't listen to him, and if that's not enough, fucking nature nymphs are popping up everywhere. Stiles didn't sign up for this shit.</p><p> <br/>"Can't you do something?" he pants, and Stiles hates everything.<br/>He slings Scott's arm over his shoulder, "Not really, no, because right now I can do impossible things, mountain ash, and make coffee, that is the extent of my magical abilities for the foreseeable future."<br/>"Well, you're useless," Scott says, and Stiles doesn't answer, because there's two of them closing in, and running away was stupid to begin with, but it was their only hope. Stiles drops Scott to the ground, has no idea how to protect him from both sides. There's a moment while they circle them, and Stiles hopes the alphas are going to play with them, that they'll survive long enough for the Hales to get here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a man may make a remark

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is everyone! I worked really hard on this, so I hope you like it!

_A Man may make a Remark -_

_In itself - a quiet thing_

_That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark_

_In dormant nature - lain -_

_Let us divide - with skill -_

_Let us discourse - with care -_

_Powder exists in Charcoal -_

_Before it exists in Fire_

 

~ Emily Dickinson

 

 

"This is all your fault," Scott gasps. Stiles tugs him to the left and wraps a hand around his elbow, just as much to make sure he's still there in this darkness as to ensure he keeps the pace Stiles has set.

He whistles once, and hopes any of the Hales are close enough to hear it, "I disagree. I'm blaming Mark." His body feels warmer, and he might be able to keep them safe until back up arrives.

Scott's starting to stumble beside him, "Mark's in New York, and you're the one who used all your mountain ash in one go."

"SORRY I DIDN'T ANTICIPATE THE THREE ALPHA WEREWOLVES TRYING TO KILL US!" and Stiles feels his indignation give way when Scott trips, and it takes all his strength to keep him upright, "Hey, come on, Derek's on his way, we just need to get somewhere safe."

"Can't you do something?" he pants, and Stiles hates everything.

He slings Scott's arm over his shoulder, "Not really, no, because right now I can do impossible things, mountain ash, and make coffee, that is the extent of my magical abilities for the foreseeable future."

"Well, you're useless," Scott says, and Stiles doesn't answer, because there's two of them closing in, and running away was stupid to begin with, but it was their only hope. Stiles drops Scott to the ground, has no idea how to protect him from both sides. There's a moment while they circle them, and Stiles hopes the alphas are going to play with them, that they'll survive long enough for the Hales to get here.

They're not playing, and Scott's cry of pain makes Stiles's chest seize even as he scrambles back from his own pair of snapping jaws. Claws drag along his hips, and he bites his lip so as not to scream. Heat flares in his chest, and it's the only warning he gets before Derek's electric blue eyes gleam over the alpha's shoulder. Derek throws himself at the alpha wolf trying to tear Stiles apart. He rolls away, and his jeans are soaked through with blood but he tries to drag himself closer to Scott, who looks far worse off than him. Cora has thrown herself at the other alpha, and Stiles can't help but think one them isn't going to make it out of this.

"Hey," he grins, pressing a hand to Scott's side, more collapsed on top of him than anything else, "so, as I was saying, this is clearly Mark's fault." Scott's snort turns into a pained, wet gasp when Stiles's hand settles over the one wound that really matters, the gaping bite mark taking up most of Scott's side. "I might be able to heal this."

"You can't," he says.

Stiles makes a noise of affront, "It's a magical wound that should be impossible to reverse. It's one of the few things I can do, maybe. I probably won't make it worse, at any rate."

Scott's eyes are wide and pleading, pulling Stiles's hands from the wound, "Please. I want it."

There's a howl so pained and furious, whoever gave it probably isn't going to survive what caused it. He doesn't feel as if his hearts been ripped from his chest, so he assumes it's not Derek. "You'll be a werewolf, Scott. Forever. I won't be able to fix it later."

Scott's grin is white in the darkness, even though his face is covered in red, tacky blood, "Good. The next time you all go off to battle, you won't be able to leave me behind. Jackson is not good at comforting me that you all aren't going to die horribly."

"Jackson isn't good at comforting anyone about anything," which isn't exactly true, but he takes to being left behind even worse than Scott does.

"STILES!"

Speaking of people who should be left behind during fights, he looks up to Isaac tossing him a vial that he fumbles for, and nearly drops it on Scott. Cory has her arms crossed as she watches her cousins. His hands are too slippery with blood to get the cork open, so he squeezes until the glass shatters into his hands. It's barely a handful of mountain ash, but it's all he needs. He slithers it around them, forces it to slide in between two wolves where he completes it. Laura falls to the ground while the alpha she was fighting is tossed aside.

Stiles searches for Derek, and he understands why only one werewolf was thrown from the circle, and he's stupidly grateful Scott has decided to turn, because they're going to need all the help they can get.

Derek looks at him over the body of the werewolf. His face is pale with terror and his eyes red with power.

 

"There are literally no words to describe how much I never wanted my hands to come this close to your dick."

Stiles groans, but it comes out closer to a laugh. Danny's palms are warm with the healing magic that knits Stiles's skin back together, and Lydia's soft hands on either side of his face distract him from the itch the healing causes, "You love me and you know it."

"Platonically," Danny insists, finally leaning against the side of the bed, exhaustion making his eyelids droop.

Jackson walks in carrying a plate piled high with bagels smothered in cream cheese with two huge mugs balanced in the crook of his elbows, and he doesn't even blink at his girlfriend manhandling Stiles into a pair of his sweatpants. Isaac's behind him with three mugs precariously held with far less balance than Jackson. "Are you done bleeding all over my Ralph Lauren comforter?" He shoves one mug at Lydia and places the plate on the bed before he throws himself down next to Danny, pretending he's not keeping him from slumping to the floor with his shoulder. He thrusts  the mug under Danny's nose until he wraps clumsy hands around it. If Jackson doesn't let go of the base until it's almost to Danny's mouth, that's just because he's not paying attention.

"For now," Stiles sighs, forcing himself upright so he doesn't gag on the bagel. "Isaac, what's going on with the Hales?"

"How would I know?" he asks.

Lydia wipes a smudge of chocolate off her lips, "Because you've been texting Cory since we split up?"

Isaac scowls, "Apparently there's just a lot of yelling and Derek locking himself in his room. Her and Cora have reached the point where they're playing cards in the corner while all the adults yell at each other, and in other news Deaton raised his voice for the first time ever."

"Lies," Stiles grabs his mug - he knows it's his, because it's huge and red with "#1 Loser" on the side. "I've made Alan raise his voice plenty of times." Lydia grins, because she's been present for a few of those, and Danny groans, because he has too.

"Did you do something different?" Danny asks Jackson, looking into his mug.

"I put two espresso shots instead of one," he says, "because of how pathetic you get after healing."

"Espresso shots?" Stiles says, "What are you drinking?"

Danny blinks, "Cinnamon latte?"

"Latte? _Latte_? Why does Danny get a latte and I don't?"

"I get a latte," Isaac says, because he's a little shit.

Stiles looks to Lydia, who shakes her head, "No, of course not - Jackson knows I far prefer mochas."

Stiles pouts at Jackson until he sighs and says, "Danny gets a latte because he's doing complicated, intense magic, and you don't because came wounded and bleeding all over everything. Only people who come sans injuries get lattes."

"I never get lattes though!" Stiles whines.

Jackson levels a glare at him that Stiles hasn't seen since middle school, "That's because you always come back hurt, moron."

He's actually incredibly embarrassed he can pull that look of annoyance and constipated concern from Jackson, so he takes a gulp of his black coffee before he says, "How's Scott?"

Isaac bounces down on the bed next to Stiles, taking his half eaten bagel from his hand even though there's a plate of whole ones right next to him because _he's a little shit_. "Same as the last time you asked - sleeping soundly in the Whittimore's guest bedroom as he slowly turns into a creature of the night."

Stiles tries to steal his bagel back, but after Isaac raises his stupidly long arm above his head, he grabs a new one instead. "Yeah, about that, Isaac, Jackson, I have an idea."

The looks of skeptical fear he gets in return are at least sixty percent unwarranted.

 

He wakes up at something like four in the morning, and he's not surprised, really, to find himself wrapped up only with Scott, but Derek could have at least been lurking in the corner like the creeper he is. He slips his hand under Scott's t-shirt, but he doesn't need to feel the unbroken skin under his fingers to know the bite has taken, not with the new buzz Scott causes under his skin. He twists a little closer anyway, so he can shove his freezing nose against the burning skin of Scott's throat and wrap his hand around the place where the bite mark used to be before falling back asleep.

 

_Stiles._

_Hey Stiles._

_STILES STILES STILES_

He groans, fumbling around so he can punch a misspelled approximation of  'what' into his phone. He has to turn away from Scott to do it, but a second later he's got an arm around his waist so it's a moot point.

_Get everyone over here asap._

_why r u txting me n not isaac_

_His phone died._

_wow wndr y_

_No one likes you._

_< 3 xoxoxoxoxox_

They squeeze into Jackson's Porsche, all of them in a hodge podge of borrowed clothing when they tumble into the Hale House still mostly asleep, excluding Lydia who is a morning person and therefore the one who drove.

"Bite didn't kill me, yay," Scott says before walking toward the couch and somehow flopping onto it and wriggling until his head is on Laura's lap, his legs are on Cora's, and Pete ends up sitting on his stomach. Stiles laughs before throwing himself on top of Derek, who's sitting in the armchair and staring at the ground, but doesn't resist when Stiles flings his arms around his shoulders and maybe even relaxes a little when he rubs his face intoo Derek's neck and digs his thumb into the soft spot behind his ear. Isaac sits on the arm of the couch next to Cora, and Jackson, Lydia, and Danny pile into the one and half person armchair, which amounts to Lydia and Danny on Jackson's lap.

Stiles can't see from his place of curling into Derek, but he knows the adults are giving them judgmental looks - well, Peter's probably laughing at them, so Talia and Kevin are dishing out the looks of judgment, but it's seven in the morning, what do they expect.

Talia clears her throat, and Stiles peaks out to see Danny and Jackson are both asleep with their heads tilted against each other's, and Scott snoring into Laura's stomach. Lydia's trying to look disgusted with the lot of them, but the curve of her lips is too fond to pull it off. "Yes?" he says.

Cory and Mark walk in from the kitchen carrying trays of steaming mugs, and the sight of eldest Hale child wakes him up more than the promise of caffeine. "Hey, Stiles," Mark hands him the first mug, and Stiles squirms until he can grab onto it while still remaining mostly on top of Derek.

"Dude, hey, when did you and Laura get here?"

"This morning," Cory answers, nudging Scott with her knee until he grumbles and sits upright with Pete in his lap, although he's mollified by the mug she shoves into his hands, "Grampa wanted to head down, but we told him it wasn't necessary. He swore."

"I like Paul," Stiles says, and by the time he looks up from his long sip of overly sweet coffee everyone's holding a mug too tightly and seated, Cory under the curve of Mark's arm with both of them leaning against the foot rest. "So, what's the problem, again?"

Derek growls, and Stiles rolls his eyes and holds the rim of his mug to Derek's lips, tilting it so he can either drink it or get splashed in the face. Derek takes the mug from him, and Stiles wonders if Mark made it more to Derek's taste than Stiles's on purpose. "I'm supposed to be the next Hale alpha," Laura says, and Stiles shrugs.

"And you will be - or, you'll succeed Talia, anyway. Derek's a Hale, he's an alpha, and so he's Alpha Hale, but he's not the Hale alpha, right?"

Kevin's nod is begrudging, "Yes, but that makes it even worse - two Alphas in the same pack is unusual, but not unheard of, but three? Laura will be coming into her own power sooner rather than later."

"So don't have three alphas," Lydia rolls her eyes, "take Derek out of the equation." Derek tenses beneath him, but Stiles rubs his knuckles along his neck so he'll keep his silence.

"We're not kicking our son out of the pack," Talia snarls, her eyes flashing red.

Lydia huffs, "That's not what I said, is it? He's an Alpha, he earned his rank, let him use it. Let Derek lead his own pack."

The harsh bark of laughter in response to that comes from Derek, which Lydia startles at, but Stiles doesn't.

"No," Cory nods, sharing a grin with Lydia, "I was thinking the same thing. It's a good idea."

Cora's skepticism fades with Cory's support, and she throws a considering look at Derek, "That might work, actually - it will certainly make Beacon Hills seem stronger. Might even make the alpha pack back off a little."

"Oh, wonderful," Isaac says, "that will only leave us with the other wolves, nymphs, and fuck knows supernatural creatures wandering about town. Has no one else noticed the spike in supernatural activity?"

"I have," Cory sighs, shooting a less than kind glare toward her aunt.

"Excuse me," Derek says, ignoring both of them, "but have you all _lost your fucking minds_. I can't lead a pack - I'm not a leader, and I don't want to be. Who would I even lead, in the first place, this is ridiculous." Derek's heart is pounding too fast against Stiles's palm, and he rubs circles over it until it calms.

"Dad and I, obviously," Cory says, "Right Dad?"

"Oh, do I get a say in what pack I belong to?" he says, but the grin curling at the edge of his lips means either Cory warned him - unlikely - or he had the same idea as his daughter - more likely.

"Sure," Cory says, "but I, Cordelia Hale, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale." Derek takes a small, indrawn breath that's not quite loud enough to be a gasp, but Talia's eyes flash red. There's a shift in the air, a sizzle of magic while Cory's loyalty settles.

"Brat," he sighs, "I, Peter Hale, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale." Talia's gone pale, but something in her eyes looks like relief.

Derek whimpers, "Stop - don't -"

"I, Scott McCall, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale."

"I, Isaac Lahey, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale."

"I, Lydia Martin, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale."

"I, Daniel Mahealani, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale."

"I, Jackson Whittimore, officially declare my allegiance to Alpha Derek Hale."

Derek's eyes are wide, his mouth moving soundlessly, and the tight grip he has on Stiles's newly healed hip is painful enough that he knows he's going to have hand shaped bruise there later. So he leans his forehead to the side of Derek's head, and his lips graze the older man's ear when he says, "I, Stiles Stillinski, high mage and emissary, officially declare my allegiance and loyalty to Alpha Derek Hale."

Derek roars then, eyes burning red when he turns them so he's pinning Stiles to the chair by his wrists and crouched over him. Stiles bares his neck, eyes glowing silver, and when Derek scent marks him for the first time as an alpha to pack, he can't keep the grin off his face. Almost as quickly as it happened, Derek scoops Stiles up, sits back on the chair, and places him on his lap. He hides his face in Stiles's shoulder for a moment before he looks up to all of their amused faces and says, "Thank you."

They grin at him, his new pack and his old one, and Stiles says, "Three magic users, four betas, and one human, not bad."

Derek frowns, "Three magic users, two betas, and three humans."

"About that," Stiles begins, and Laura and Talia both attempt to smother their laughter. Neither do a very good job.

 

Stiles slams his head against Alan's desk a few times before he realizes neither he nor Scott are going to stop him. "I hate being a high mage," Stiles whines, although it comes out a bit muffled since he's saying it into the desk, "Can't I go back to being a regular mage? I'll even deal with the stupid silver tree tattoo again." That had been gone when he woke up, lost in the mutual magical transfusion he'd had with the earth.

Scott's laughing at him without moving his mouth, and Alan's just looking very disapproving from where he's watching Scott set a cat's broken foreleg. "It is a great and rare honor, and you should be more grateful."

He bangs his head twice more, "I can't do anything! I tried to light a match in the woods yesterday, and set seven trees on fire!"

 Alan blinks, "How did you put them out?"

Stiles bites his lip, because he thinks this is normal, is almost positive, "A water nymph put it out for me?" They're new. Well, or old, he supposes they've always been there, but now they've started making themselves known.

Scott is actually laughing at him out loud now, but Alan has that carefully blank look on his face that means he's questioning every choice he's made that led him to taking Stiles on as his apprentice, so it evens out.

 

Stiles is setting up the coffee maker while viciously texting Derek for updates on Jackson and Isaac ( _fine, we're training, go annoy danny_ ) while listening for the sound of the shower turning off, because as soon as Danny is done in the shower he's going to stand under hot water for an hour. He threw his shirt over the back of one of the kitchen chairs earlier, so now he's shirtless and sweating against the counter. Gross.

"Jesus," Stiles looks up and grins at his Dad, but at the grimace on his face his own smile slides off, "I don't need to see this Stiles - and I don't want to talk about this, I don't, but please tell me you two are being safe."

Stiles blinks, looking down at his torso, and okay, he runs around with a bunch of male models, but he's not that bad. "What?"

Dad looks upstairs, pained, "Is he in the shower now? Did he stay over last night?"

"Danny?" Stiles asks, eyebrow raised, "We went running this morning? Like we have every morning for the past year?"

" _Danny_ gave you that?"

Stiles follows his dad's gaze to purpling hand shaped bruise on his left hip, the top of it clearly visible over the waistband of his sweatpants, "What? No, Derek did that." His dad groans, and Stiles gets it then, and he feels the blush spread over his face and half way down his chest as he thinks of another way he could have gotten that bruise, and his voice is a few octaves higher when he shouts "Derek and I aren't having sex!"

Over his dad's shoulder he sees Danny pause at the bottom of the steps before turning around and heading right back up them, because he is a coward.

Dad's clear disbelief is even worse, "Right. Look, Stiles, it's okay. I can't say I don't wish you both had waited a few more years, but I understand. I accepted that Derek was going to end up my son in law when you were twelve."

Stiles gapes helplessly for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "No. Just - one, that's a little weird, and two, Derek and I are not together, we don't have that kind of relationship, and we are not having sex, I am still a pathetic virgin. Can we please never speak of this again?"

Dad raises both his eyebrows, "All right, you're not having sex with Derek, I believe you." Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief, "But if you actually think that you two aren't in a relationship, then you're not as smart as your report card claims."

 

"Are Derek and I dating?"

Alan pauses on the other end of the line, and normally Stiles would be impressed over rendering the man speechless, but this is important, damn it. "I didn't call to discuss your love life. Please, let's not discuss your love life."

"But are we?" he persists.

Alan sigh, "Maybe this is a conversation you should be having with Derek? I just wanted to know when you were getting those potion orders to me, since I should have sent them out three days ago."

"Do you think Derek thinks we're dating? Does Derek date?"

Alan hangs up on him.

 

Stiles is the middle of throwing beetle legs into Alan's big ass pot when his phone vibrates. He answers it without looking, because potions may be boring as fuck, but if he messes it up Alan will have to push back the orders another week.

"What's up?" Dreamless Sleep is unsurprisingly popular, although Alan had given him a fifteen minute lecture on trying to recreate things from Harry Potter. Again. Whatever, it was either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, and Alan does _not_ want him trying to recreate shit from Lord of the Rings. Whoever is on the other end doesn't say anything, and the potion is kind of blue-y, and he doesn't think he added in enough legs, so he throws in a few more, and grins when it goes closer to purple. "Hello? Anyone there?"

There's another pause before, "It's me. You have that tone of voice you got from Lydia, the one you get when you're doing something that involves explosives."

Stiles frowns down at the potion, "Nothing would explode, unless I really fucked up. Far more likely I produce a toxic gas that was instantly fatal to those who inhaled it."

"Potions?" Derek sighs, "Is either Danny or Lydia there at least? I know Alan's not, he's with Scott."

"They were busy, and I was bored. I need to get my powers under control so I can stop fucking around with potions - you know Alan's orders for shit have nearly tripled? Which would be cool and everything, except I have better things to do than make potions," it's going to need to simmer for at least the next two hours, so Stiles starts rifling through Alan's cabinets. "Anyway, I'm no longer dealing with that, so what's up? You never call me. Ever. Like, why aren't you breaking down Alan's door to talk to me?"

"Well one, Deaton lines his property with mountain ash, and two, I'm looking at a place right now."

Stiles stretches, because he knows Alan keeps the Oreos on the top shelf, as if that will stop Stiles for eating them every time, naive bastard, "You know your mom said you can stay at the house, she's like getting mega guilt over you moving out."

"It's weird," Derek grumbles, "We keep flashing our eyes at each other and getting territorial. She went to hug Isaac yesterday morning and I nearly snarled at her. Not the point. I like this one, it's a loft and about midway between you and the preserve, but there's only four bedrooms."

Stiles snags the Oreos and then grabs the milk. Because he only likes winding Alan up some of the time, he even bothers to take down a glass instead of drinking from the carton. "So? You only need four bedrooms, right? Only Peter, Cory, and Isaac are living with you."

Derek says, "Yeah, but you. I mean, you had your own bedroom at the house, I feel bad that you wouldn't have one here."

"Dude," Stiles snorts, "that place was basically storage even before we turned it into Isaac's bedroom. I always sleep with you anyway." He freezes, wonders if this was Derek's way of saying that he didn't want to sleep with him anymore, except that doesn't make any _sense_ that's how they both feel safest, or at least Stiles thinks.

Derek huffs, "I just wanted to makes sure - I already boxed your stuff up with mine anyway, so if you did want your own space you'd have made our lives extra complicated."

"I never want space away from you," he says and there's maybe a sharp inhale on the other end and Stiles is blushing a fire engine red as he says, "Potion doing a thing, gotta go, bye," and hanging up.

He bangs his head on the kitchen table a few times and then eats the rest of Alan's Oreos, because his life is complicated and he deserves it.

 

"I don't really feel comfortable doing this on a full moon. Considering the number of wolves that have been strolling into Hale territory, I can't even begin to tell you how much I'm not comfortable doing this during the full moon."

Stiles rolls his eyes, "Danny, it's tradition. Be grateful I'm not making you do this skyclad."

"Skyclad?" he repeats.

"Naked," Lydia says, actually being helpful and assisting Stiles in setting up the large, creamy white candles in a circle around the tree.

Danny glances up and shifts his weight from one side to the other, "Honestly? I'd rather do this in broad daylight, even without clothes. The random nature spirits were one thing, but over the past few weeks over thirty wolves have settled around the Beacon Hill borders."

"See, even Danny has noticed. We should do something about the wolves," Lydia says, "Or get Derek to do something about it. Something should be done, is what I'm getting at here."

Stiles sets down the last candle, "Relax, this will only take like five minutes. Besides, as soon as I consecrate this nothing remotely magical, werewolves included, will be able to pass through."

"Are you sure you can?" and her tone isn't even snarky, just curious. He doesn't answer that, only raises an eyebrow that they probably can't see in the weak light of the moon. They both kneel anyway, and Lydia's beautiful crochet pointelle dress is probably going to end up with grass stains. Stiles stands in front of them and takes a deep breath while he looks at the blessed tree that nearly half a year ago he'd anointed with his own blood, then at the bowed heads of his witches. When he exhales the circle of candles crackle with flames a few shades too red to be natural. Lydia and Danny don't even twitch. 

Stiles feels the thrum under his skin, the unbearable pressure of his magic having quieted enough for this, and he can feel the answering vibrations from the two people in front of him. Danny's magic is as connected to the earth as a tree's roots are, and it's reflected by its slow, steady beats. Lydia's magic clings to other worlds and to places no one living stays, and her magic is a high, faltering whistle cutting through the air. He breathes in again, and this time when he exhales, the flames of the candles are half a dozen feet high each, sparking with all three of their magics. "A year and a day ago, I stood with you in a different place, opened your eyes and offered you nothing more or less than what was rightfully yours, and the skill to wield it. I promised you knowledge, and the safety of my own power. Have I fulfilled this duty?"

"You have," they answer in unison.

He lays a hand on both of their heads, feels them tense with the power they feel shifting inside of him, "You have studied, practiced, and learned. You have faced many adversaries, and always came out victorious. As such, you have earned your full rights to your magic, your title, and your place. I, High Mage Stiles Stilinski, present you to the moon and the stars and the earth beneath you as full witches."

Lydia gasps and Danny curses, and Stiles remembers being twelve years old and in their place and Alan in his, the way he'd always felt the earth and magic but this was the first time he was felt back, as the steady strum of the earth and those creatures which were still connected to such things as old and unsteady as ley lines saw him, and for the first time he was more than another human in seven billion, more than a member of the rat race, but a creature of magic and impossibility with the potential for power nearly enough to make him high.

He may have cried.

He kneels with them now, and grabs one of their hands in each of his own. He sees their gutted, wonder filled faces and smiles wide enough that his face hurts. "Lydia, Danny, will you join my coven?" They've discussed this, he already knows their answer, but their jerky nods are still a relief. He  lifts Lydia's hand, twisting it so he can press a kiss to her inner wrist and then does the same to Danny, pressing his lips to his skin for a few beats longer just because Danny's magic feels so similar to his own, and he likes the feel of it.

Stiles pulls back, and there are silvery smudges on both their wrists. They watch them shift and move intently, curious as to what mark they'll take.

A dagger flies through the wall of purple flame, and it's only Lydia's quick reflexes that keep Danny from getting impaled, "Stiles!"

He wrenches the dagger from the trunk of the tree and tries not to notice how the wood reforms as soon as it's gone, "Not magic!" Not iron, not a precious metal, just steel, so also nothing useful. "Hunters, although they're going to regret this."

"They are?" Danny rolls he and Lydia to dodge another dagger, and Stiles thinks they must only be carrying blessed or wolfsbane bullets if they haven't tried to shoot them yet.

Stiles can feel his magic stirring, and he struggles to rein it back, to hold on to the control this circle and these witches grant him. He breathes in, and on his exhale the purple flames go translucent. They can see the half dozen hunters surrounding them, and he rolls his neck, looks toward his witches, to his mark still shifting on their wrists, and asks, "Aren't they?"

Danny and Lydia share a grin before they move to stand in front of him, but still behind the protective, shimmering flames - they're not stupid. Stiles leans against the tree, patting it absently like an old friend. There's shouting, but Stiles doesn't care to listen to the words. Instead, he watches.

Danny lifts a hand, widening his stance as if preparing to spring branches and leaves, to stay rooted in this spot for the rest of his life. He mouths the words but doesn't say them, and his eyes flash. There's a groan as trees twist down, wrapping branches and rising roots around shrieking hunters. Stiles throws back his head  laughing, and doesn't even care when he cracks his head against the trunk.

Two of them who aren't struggling to free themselves from suddenly sentient trees run forward, and Danny dips his head to Lydia, stretching out his arm as if ushering her through a doorway. She huffs, glancing up from inspecting the hand that's not on her cocked hip. She wails, and Danny and Stiles have long ago weaved the proper protection around themselves, so the sight of those men clutching their ears with pain and falling to the ground is beyond satisfying. Danny whispers more words of power, and roots buried deep break through the ground to pin the hunters to the ground.

Danny and Lydia are so busy beaming at each other that they don't notice Stiles until he claps them both on the shoulders, "Great job guys, couldn't have done it better myself, like actually, I really couldn't." They're both smiling at him the way they do when they're proud of themselves and proud that he's proud of them, and Stiles flushes before coughing. "So, let's put the fear of us in them." He considers the still flaming circle and says to them, "For you," before he blows out with more than air, extinguishes the circle of six foot flames in one breath. The remains of the candles sink into the earth, and where each candle was sprouts the beginnings of a flower, which grows and unfurls into a black lily, and it really is the best he could have done for the two of them. A flower for Danny, a piece of the nature he's so connected to, and the lily means rebirth, from the person Danny was to the witch he is. Black, for death, for Lydia, and the power she holds in her grasp, but, again, a flower, because for all her power she's beautiful too.

Stiles thinks he might have said that aloud, because Lydia's burrowing her way into his side and Danny has an arm swung over his shoulder. "Come on," Danny says, "let's figure out what the fuck that was about."

They walk straight pass the two cursing hunters tangled in roots, and Stiles zeros in on the man trapped in a kind of hug against a tree's trunk, because he's the only one that's been silent these past few minutes. "Who are you?"

"I've never seen flames so high for an initiation," he says instead, but that's okay, because Stiles has caught sight of the ring on his hand, and so many people have that ring, made of that material, it's paranoid and ridiculous to assume.

"Argent?" Stiles challenges, and at the lift of the man's chin, Danny and Lydia stiffen at his side. "Wow, you guys are dumb fucks. I mean, we already knew that, trying to use daggers to kill witches in a protective circle, but what the fuck is a group of Argents doing on Hale land?"

"What concern are the Hales to you, witch?" the man challenges.

Lydia laughs. Stiles leans in, raw and this side of fragile, "I'm their emissary, their friend, and for the record, you ignorant excuse for a hunter, I'm not a witch," his eyes flash silver, bright enough it reflects in the man's own wide eyes, "I am a high mage. If you're dumb enough to ignore the Hale's claim to this territory, you best be smart enough to acknowledge mine."

 

"So on a scale of not good to very bad?"

"Fucking fuckity fuck goddamnit," Stiles answered calmly, directing the Jeep toward the Hale house, knowing that Cora would still be up and waiting for the rest of her family to return home if nothing else.

Danny and Lydia exchange a look, Stiles can't even see them right now and he knows that. "It was an Argent, before, right?"

"That tried to burn all the Hales alive? Yes. Talia killed her and every hunter she had with her. She was acting outside of the Code, everyone knew that, so the Argents sent someone - her brother, I think - to collect her body, and swore to stay far, far away from Beacon Hills." He resisted the urge to look back to see the silver druid tree that used to be etched along his ribs glinting off of their wrists. He'd need to teach them how to hide them under a charm later.

"Was it a good idea to just leave them there?" Danny asks, "On Hale property?"

"The pack will stay clear of that area tonight because we were supposed to be there, and yes, their new matriarch will take care of it, considering she wasn't there tonight."

"What?" Lydia said, managing both confused and irritated.

"Those were all men - soldiers. The Argent family and those it allies itself with are always led by women. The old one died two years ago, so it's under new management. Alan's contacts couldn't say who, but I guess we'll find out soon enough." He pulls into the driveway, and tosses his phone to Danny, "Actually, can you send Alan a message telling him to get here ASAP?"

Cory meets them at the door, and Stiles is going to find out one day how she always knows something is wrong, because he doesn't get it. "What happened?" she demands, running a critical eye over all of them.

Lydia links arms with the older girl, leading her back inside, "Not a hundred percent sure, but I apparently the Argents are back in town."

Even Danny blushes at some of the choice phrases she has in response to that.

 

The day after the full moon is not the best time for them to discuss this, but they really, really can't put it off.

"You're sure?" Kevin asks, and Stiles doesn't say anything, because he's lost track of the number of times he's already answered that question, "Shit."

Stiles paces, and he his hip brushes Derek's shoulder every time he walks by but the older man hasn't bothered to move out his way, "Yes. Why are they here, why now? Why would they be so stupid as to be prowling Hale property on a full moon?"

Alan's massaging his temple, and Stiles glances at the door. He's not a hundred percent sure why they decided this was an alphas and emissaries only meeting, because he guarantees all of them that the wolves are eavesdropping and telling everyone what they're saying. Hell, all three of them can probably hear it happening. "You didn't deal with their matriarch?" Alan asks.

Stiles shakes his head, "No, so I'm giving her three days to make official contact, and then if there's silence after that, I vote we find their base and set it on fire."

"Stiles," Derek sighs, because they've talked about this.

Stiles shakes his head, "I don't like them here, but I hate that they're sneaking around. Kate was a psychotic bitch, we know that, and more importantly, they know that. So Argents coming to town, a surprise, not happy fun times, but not a huge deal over all. Beacon Hills is a hotspot for the supernatural. But Argents sneaking around on our land? I don't like it.  I honest to god hate it, because what are they planning to do to us now?"

Derek snags his wrist the next time he passes, and Stiles snarls. Derek doesn't blink, just rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist while looking up at him with a rare earnest expression, "Don't worry. We're a lot stronger than we were six years ago, and so are you. We'll be more than a match for whatever the Argents are planning - if they're planning anything at all."

Stiles twists his hands to twine with Derek's, and feels the tension leave him as if Derek is drawing it out like pain. "I really hate it when you're the reasonable, sane one."

"Me too," Derek answers immediately, "that's what I have you for after all."

Talia rolls her eyes, "Back to the issue at hand, boys."

Stiles sits on the arm of Derek's chair, "I stand by what I said, maybe minus the fire part. Give her three days to approach me, and if she doesn't I'll approach her, but at that point it'll only be to tell her to fuck off. This is our territory, if she doesn't want to play nice she can go. I'd prefer if they went anyway, but if we have to be fair and reasonable about the whole thing."

Derek curls an arm around Stiles's waist, "I don't want you to approach them alone."

Stiles shrugs, "Too bad. I am."

"You're not going alone," he tries instead, and his betas and pack are all over jumping at that tone of voice, but Stiles is his emissary. More importantly, he knows Derek better than that.

"Yes I am. This is what I'm _for_ ," Derek growls and Stiles throws up his hands in frustration, "Alan, Talia, tell him."

"He has a point," Alan says, "he's not only a high mage, but your emissary. It is both his right and duty to speak to the Argents on you and your mother's behalf. Especially considering he's already had an interaction with them. Besides, they won't hurt him - and if they did, Stiles can protect himself."

"No, he can't," Derek says, "because he still can't control his powers. So he can stop an army, but if he tries to use his power on a few hunters he'll end up destroying half of Beacon Hills."

"A quarter," Stiles protests, because his control really has improved these past months.

"Regardless," Derek continues, "I'm not comfortable with this."

"Tough shit," Stiles says, but he can actually feel Derek's anxiety, so he presses a kiss to the side of his forehead, "I'll be careful, and if you want you can do your creepy stalker thing, so you'll be in hearing distance if I need help. Which I won't."

Derek grumbles, but tips his head against Stiles's chest and doesn't voice any more protests.

 

"She's _gorgeous_."

Stiles huffs when Scott pounces on him, half squishing him into the locker, "Dude!"

"Thanks Scott," Cory says, "but I date human athletes, not nerdy werewolves."

"Isaac will be crushed," Stiles grumbles, letting his best friend wrap around him like an octopus.

"Not you," Scott sighs. Cory raises an eyebrow. "You are very pretty! But there's a new girl, she's in my English class, and she has this hair - and Jesus her eyes - and guys, she's already read Ayn Rand, I don't think she liked it, but she read it, she's so _smart_."

Cory pats him on the head, "So she has hair and eyes and read a book. I'm so glad to know you have standards. Does she have a name too?"

"Allison," Scott breathes, reverent, and Stiles can't help it any more, he laughs and doesn't stop even when Scott pouts at him.

"Come on, Romeo, we're going to be late for gym."

 

"I'll get her," Stiles says, not even aware he's spoken until he's already a quarter of the way up the rock wall. He's pretty sure Finstock is stuttering denials below, but listening to Coach always ends in pain. "Hey," he says, grinning at bushy head of golden curls, "you okay?"

She shakes her head.

"Your name is Erica, right?"

A pause, then a slow nod.

"Do you want help getting down?"

She shakes her head again, grasping the rocks under her hands until her knuckles go white.

He tips his head to the side, considering, and looks down. Coach is red, and Scott is offering a hesitant thumbs up. Stiles returns it before leaning into Erica's space. "You're afraid of heights?"

There's a longer pause this time, but she nods.

Stiles hums, "You know, I've been afraid of a lot of things, and most of the time I kind of just run into it with a hope and a prayer, because I really hate it when shit gets in my way." He only holds on with one hand so he can tuck some of her hair behind her ear, and she tilts her head just enough so he can see beautiful brown eyes and how she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, "You seem like kind of a badass, so why don't we go to the top together?"

It takes a bit for her lips to spread into an easy smile, but it's worth it when she looks him right in the eye and says, "Sounds like a plan."

"STILLINSKI!" Coach yells, "GET DOWN HERE!"

"SURE THING COACH!" he yells back before turning his smirk on Erica, "Ready?"

"Of course," she reaches up for the next handhold, and only hesitates a second before doing the same with her feet and boosting herself a few inches ahead of Stiles, "Keep up."

He laughs, because where has this girl been hiding, and he stays six inches behind her until they reach the top. He wonders if Coach notices the louder he yells at them, the more confident her movements become. Stiles thinks he does, and that's why he does it, because Coach is actually pretty good at his job, sometimes, a little bit.

"I don't like this part," she says, "going down is almost worse than coming up."

Stiles looks down and shrugs, "You know Scott McCall?"

She blinks, "Your other half? Yes."

He nods, calls down, "HEY SCOTT?"

"HEY STILES?"

"CATCH!"

"OKAY!"

He cocks his eyebrow like a challenge, because he can already tell how Erica reacts to those. She doesn't disappoint, rolling her eyes before she takes a deep breath and lets go. She doesn't make a sound on the way down, although she laughs when Scott catches her bridal style. Stiles can tell even from up here that Scott is beaming at her with his grin that's equal parts puppy and Hollywood star.

 

He finally tracks her down in the library. "What do you know about Erica Reyes?"

Lydia does blink, although she does turn the page of what Stiles thinks is an astrophysics journal, "Our year, has epilepsy, could give me a run for my money if she put in more effort, hands on learner, often out of school too often to maintain any sort of decent GPA, although she probably wouldn't do too bad otherwise."

Stiles nods, worrying at the bruise on his apple with his thumb, "I like her."

That gets him glance up from her book, "You're taken."

He glares, "One, no I'm not, and two, I meant as a friend. I want to be her friend."

"She doesn't want to be your friend. Did I no mention that before? She's wanted to fuck you five ways from Sunday since middle school."

Stiles drops his apple.

Lydia sighs, "Pick that up, honestly Stiles, it's amazing how you don't notice when people are attracted to you."

He slumps over the table, "Pathetic. You meant to use the word pathetic," it comes out a little muffled since his head is buried in his arms.

She sighs again, and if he'd wanted her to be patient with him he probably should have waited until she was finished with her book, "I'm just saying, Stiles, that it's something to keep in mind, she has more going for her than her crush on you. She also has a very strong personality - she might not win in a fight, but she's the type to resorts to biting and hair pulling."

Stiles stares, " _You're_ the type to resort to biting and hair pulling."

"And I always win, will you look at that. Enough about Reyes - I want to talk to you about Vernon Boyd."

"...Why?"

She props her chin on her hand, "Because I want him. Better yet you want him, because he's smart and grounded and disturbingly loyal with this odd penchant for thinking things through before he does them. Right now, as far as being level headed is concerned, we have Cory and sometimes Peter depending on the situation. And since no one's listening to either her or me about the level of concern we are _not_ showing about the werewolves moving in on our territory, I'd feel better if we had someone like him in the pack."

Stiles leans back in his chair, ignoring her glare and shifting mindsets from teenage boy to an alpha's emissary, "A new werewolf might not be the best idea in this situation. We could use the strength, and him if you've read his personality correctly - I'll assume you have, okay, stop glaring - but a volatile, newly turned wolf isn't something we should really be trying to handle right now."

"Did I say turn him into a werewolf? No. I want his mind for the pack, not another set of teeth. Cory will be all for it, she's dying for another human in the pack."

Stiles tries to think of all he knows about Boyd, and it's not much. Certainly not enough to try to get him into the pack, but Lydia's his second, and if he couldn't trust her judgment she wouldn't be. "I'll bring it up with Derek."

She wrinkles her nose before going back to her science journal, "I really don't need to know about your sex life, Stiles."

The only reasonable response to that is to flee.

 

For weekend morning runs, Danny and Stiles take one path though the reserves, Cory and Lydia take the other, and they meet up in the middle. Back in the days of the dying tree, it wasn't unusual for one or both of them to be ambushed by something trying to kill them. This hasn't been the case for months, but still, old habits die hard.

"Do you-?" Danny asks.

Stiles nods, slowing down to a walk beside him, "Can you tell what it is?" It's powerful, whatever is moving towards them, but it doesn't exactly feel threatening. Then again, neither does Danny.

He shakes his head, "It - if I didn't know better - but, I'm pretty sure that -" Stiles doesn't get a chance to demand coherency from his witch, since it finally catches up with them, winding in between trees to stop a few yards from them. "Oh, well, I guess now I know better. Huh."

"No," Stiles says faintly.

Danny shrugs, although he's not blinking, just in case it disappears, "Deaton said they were real."

"Alan is a lying liar who lies."

"Stiles. She's right th-"

"Don't gender stereotype, it could be a guy. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's a guy. Either way I'm calling it Charlie."

"You are not."

"I have a sacred duty, to myself, to not let such an opportunity pass," he says, eyes widening while it comes closer, and doesn't stop until it bumps its massive head against Stiles's shoulder. He gulps, but brings up a hand to scratch at the beast's neck, "At least it's not white."

"Oh no," Danny murmurs, "the grey-in-sunlight-silver is much more subtle."

He glares, but then it bumps its head into Stiles for his attention, so he goes back to petting his new unicorn friend.

 

Peter is laughing at him, Cory is very nicely not, and what is Cora even doing here anyway.

"A unicorn?" Derek repeats. Lydia and Danny are _trying really hard_ not to laugh at him, but he knows that they won't last. "Where is it now?"

"For your information, it's a he, his name is Charlie, and I asked one the wood nymphs - Carol? - to look after him," Scott, Jackson, and Isaac have been laughing at him since they heard, and at this they actually begin to howl, and he hates them, he hates them all, he's taking his witches and he's going to live a nice quite life in cave far away from this bullshit.

"You are not," Derek says, and Stiles scowls, because he hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Relax, we've dealt with worse things than unicorns. Uh - right? What do unicorns do?"

"Ruin everything good and happy," Stiles says, but Peter's finally died down to the occasional chuckle and claps his hand on Stiles's shoulder.

"They're attracted to strong, magical users who deal with pure power," he says, and fuck him, he's still laughing with his goddamn words.

Derek sighs, "Like a high mage?"

"Like a high mage," Peter agrees, and he's smirking at Stiles, that motherfucker.

Stiles leans back into Peter's hand and pouts, "Can we stop talking about this now? Let's discuss how the Argents only have one more day left until I start setting shit on fire, or how Scott's in love with tall brunette who kind of hates him for no reason, or really anything else, and leave my unicorn alone."

" _Your_ unicorn?" Isaac gasps, and fuck them, fuck everyone, he's going cave hunting.

 

Danny woke up late, which Stiles took as an excellent excuse to do the same, so he's not drenched in sweat while waiting for his bread to toast, and his dad had an early morning shift so he didn't even have to deal with the coffee maker, he could just magic up instant perfect coffee. Fuck it, being a high mage has to be good for something, it might as well be inventing a spell to make coffee. He should patent it. Can you patent spells? He'll ask Alan later.

This all means he's in spectacular mood up until his phone rings, and he sees that it's Derek. If Derek wanted to talk to him, he'd head over and crawl through his window like a creepy creeper. The only reasons he'd have to call were if he was in trouble, or if he was saying something that he didn't want to see Stiles's face for.

It's probably a little twisted, but he finds himself hoping they've been ambushed by a nest of vampires or something when he accepts the call, "Hey Derek, 'sup."

Derek clear his throat, "I've been thinking-"

"Well, that's never good," he takes a long sip of coffee, because it feels like he's going to need it, "What's up?"

"I've been _thinking_ , about that Boyd kid, and, I - do you talk to Isaac a lot?"

Stiles blinks, and on one hand Derek doesn't seem to be angry or upset with him, but on the other hand he's confused as fuck, "Uh, yeah, Derek. Like every day."

"No - no, I mean, about - his dad."

His magic wants to lash out at that, but this isn't the old days where that meant a window or chair, he's likely to take out at least the entire house if he tries, "Why? Has he done anything? He hasn't seen Isaac, has he?"

"No, God Stiles, you were there, I scared the crap out of that man long before I turned Isaac, he's not going to touch him. I just - legally, that man still has a hold on him, and it was bad enough when he was just my packmate, but now that's he's mine, the thought of that fucker being in charge of him-"

"You're in charge of him," Stiles says, because it's true, Derek is Isaac's older brother in all the ways he's not his alpha, it's disgustingly adorable.

Derek takes another deep breath, "I want to really be in charge of him. I want - I want custody, you know, I want him to be ours, not just on the werewolf side of things, but on the human side too. If that's what he wants."

Stiles's face is actually, literally, going to break in half, "You moron, of course he wants, I can tell you that right now."

He lets out his breath of air, "Cora said the same thing. I just - how do I even-"

"Talk to him about it, and I'll talk to my dad about it, and I'll have Jackson talk to his, and in between the Sheriff and a hotshot lawyer, I can't imagine the legal side of things is going to be a problem."

"Thanks, Stiles," he can hear the smile in Derek's voice.

He takes another sip of coffee to keep from beaming like an idiot, "It's what I'm here for. What were you saying about Boyd?"

"I want to get the Isaac thing underway first before anything official happens, but I trust you and I trust Lydia, and if you both think that he'll improve the pack I'm willing to believe you. So start bringing him in whenever you feel comfortable."

"You're the best," he says.

Derek laughs, but it's soft and makes something hurt in Stiles's chest, "I learned it from you."

 

His window's open for Derek, just in case, but at 1:34 in the morning, exactly seventy two hours since a hunter threw a dagger at Danny, he gets an arrow shot into the wall above his head. He gasps awake, a cloud of mountain ash already hovering when he sees the letter spun around the shaft. He can't decide between snarling and laughing, so he turns the mountain ash silver and sends it out the window. Stiles burrows back into bed, figuring whatever the matriarch has to say will keep until morning.

He hopes anyone who sees the giant silver middle finger in the sky will be too drunk or tired to think too much on it.

 

He should really tell Derek as soon as he reads the letter, but that will just give him more time to panic, so instead he sends a text when he pulls into the Argent's driveway.

_meeting argents, lydia and danny with me_

She sighs, "He's going to kill you."

"I'm too pretty to die," he says, slamming the door shut.

She steps to his right and Danny to his left, and they share a grin that's just a little too vicious. He's the one who knocks, although if they haven't noticed the three magic users strolling up to their front door, they're not worth their name.

The man whom Stiles had last spoken to answers the door with a face that could be carved from stone, "High Mage Stilinski."

"Argent," he answers, "Nice presentation - nearly gave me a heart attack."

He closed the door behind them, "I hear your answer was equally colorful."

Stiles grins, because they can play stonefaced, he doesn't have to. This is his land, his coven, and his werewolves. Argent gestures them into the living room, and when they see the woman waiting for them, Danny and Lydia stiffen, but Stiles can appreciate a good play, and laughs.

"This is a joke, right?" he knows this girl, has seen Scott making pathetic eyes at her these past few days.

Allison lifts an eyebrow, "I don't see anything funny here - you're nearly an hour late."

"You're the matriarch?" Stiles scoffs, and he's thankful neither Danny nor Lydia have said anything yet, that they're taking their cues from him. "You're what - sixteen?"

"Seventeen, actually," she tilts her head, and Stiles is jealous of casual elegance and power she gives off with the straight lines of her body. Even during his most powerful spells he's a mess of flailing limbs.

He narrows his eyes, "You've been a matriarch since you were fifteen? Really?"

Allison shrugs, even that movement easy with grace, "When you were ten years old you removed a sleeping spell and a charmed line of mountain ash that had been placed there by a druid old enough to be your grandfather. You don't want to play this game with me Stiles - you'll lose."

He cracks a grins then, "Fair. Although, really? You can't be the only female Argent. I _know_ you're not the only female Argent." He sits on the couch directly in front of her chair, Danny and Lydia slowly following suit, "So this is kind of a surprise."

"It wouldn't have been if you'd done your homework," she says coolly, although strangely Stiles feels as if he's passed some sort of test anyhow.

He scoffs, "Ever since Great Grandma Rose died, you guys have kept pretty low profile. I have to admit, you did a great job of keeping your identity under wraps."

"It is a secret I would like to keep," she says. "This too is, a secret, but I share it with you in an act of good faith. I'm in power because after Kate it become obvious that there was some dissent within the ranks. Grandma started taking steps to correct it, weeded out the problem. She hadn't finished when she died, so I had my work cut out for me when I inherited the title."

"Sounds like you were busy," Stiles says.

She quirks an eyebrow, "From the rumors, it sounds like you were too." Argent enters the room and stands beside her, and she says, "This is my father, Christopher Argent."

They exchanges nods, "Encantado. And assuming we come to sort of amiable agreement at the end of this, I'm happy to keep all your secrets. If not, well, it's all fair game isn't it?" Chris has gone rigid, but Alison's almost smiling at him now. "You still haven't explained how you, of everyone, got named Matriarch."

Allison smirks, "I can't lay myself completely bare for you Stiles - you haven't even bought me dinner."

Chris goes red, and Lydia snorts. Stiles is really starting to like this girl - it's too bad she's the head of a family whose job it is to kill _his_ family. "Alright, alright. Now, first things first. Considering your family's history with the Hales, it would have been good faith to announce your presence, and not by interrupting an initiation rite ordained by this region's high mage."

She sighs, tucking one leg under the other so she's sitting cross legged. It makes Stiles like her more, and he wonders if it was calculated. "Do you have any idea what kind of rumors have been circulating about Beacon Hills these past few years?"

"I can imagine," he says instead, "We were all a little surprised when no hunters showed up for the olde demons."

Chris shakes his head, and Alison looks faintly amused, "None of us are quite that stupid or suicidal, and lucky for you the Winchesters didn't catch wind until the situation was already handled."

Stiles's gaze darkens, "We have a plan, if the Winchesters come calling. I'd rather not have it come to that, because in addition to being crazy, bloodthirsty fuckers, they also have a disturbing amount of luck."

"They were on their way," she says, "we dissuaded them otherwise."

"So you're doing us a favor, then?" Lydia says, twirling a lock of hair around her finger and with that sweet smile that's making Danny look a little wary. "You'll kill us so they don't need to bother? Because that won't work out well for you, just so you know."

Alison shakes her head, " _No_. It was an opportunity, and I took it, because I figured it was one of the few ways the Hales would accept our presence."

"Why?" Lydia continues, gaze a hair too sharp to be truly vacant.

"The increase in supernatural activity isn't something the hunting community can be expected to ignore any longer."

Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder, "The truth, if you don't mind."

Alison throws up her hands, and Stiles is pretty sure her dad is biting his lip to keep from grinning. "Are you joking? I became the matriarch when I was fifteen, and at that point we'd already heard of the olde demons, and how somehow instead of getting news of the Hale pack's demise we hear of their victory. Then there's a groups of wendigos prowling around, and wendigos hunt alone, they always hunt alone, _are you joking_. Every witch on the fucking continent has a seizure, or a weird vision, or I don't know, an off morning, and they all trace it back here. Which fine okay, you guys get all the cool toys, but then the werewolves start migrating. Every non stable pack is coming this way, you know that right? Some lone alphas, a few omegas, but for the most part it's a bunch of not totally sane werewolf packs setting up camp around Northern California, and I'm sorry, there's only so many wayward omegas I can threaten into not humping public building or flashing their teeth before I lose my fucking mind. All the fun is headed right for Beacon Hills, and I'm not missing out, not this time."

She's flushed at the end of her rant, and Chris's face has turned a similar shade from not laughing. 

"I like her," Lydia says eventually. Danny's buried his face in his hands.

Stiles grins, "Me too. So what this is really about is that you want to play in our sandbox."

She straightens with a proud tilt to her chin before deflating, says, "Pretty much. It's a win-win, I don't have to deal with bitchy omegas I can't even shoot, our name is enough to keep other hunters off your back, and I get to _shoot something_."

"I really like her," Lydia says, "let's be friends. I like to set things on fire." She offers her hand, and Allison shakes it without hesitation.

"Hold on," Stiles says, "Okay, so you were stupidly doing reconnaissance to figure out what the hell was going on in our little town, dumb, but I get it. But why did you attack us during the initiation rite?"

Chris grimaces, "That's my fault. I thought you were summoning a demon."

"That's what you meant. The flames were too high for a typical rite," Danny says.

"I've never even heart of an initiation rite having flames over one foot tall, and even that's rare. Yours were over six feet - if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe that it was possible."

"Story of my life," he grumbles, and Lydia nudges his ribs, "But, once again, I'm a high mage. What did you expect?"

Allison rolls her eyes, "Of all the rumors that come from Beacon Hills, that a mage lives there is the rarest, and the one least likely to be believed. A high mage? I'd have laughed at anyone who suggested it."

"We haven't been keeping it a secret," he shrugs, "it always seemed kind of pointless since any magic user worth their salt or magic creature could tell as soon as they were in range."

"Well, you guys aren't exactly known for leaving survivors," she says, and okay, that's true, but it's not on purpose, "The last confirmed high mage was hundreds of years ago."

"I invented an instant espresso spell," Stiles tells them brightly, "as far as I'm concerned, my contribution to modern magic is done."

Allison's grinning now, and it's so much better than her emotionless face that Stiles has to grin back, "So? Do you think we can work together?"

"We'll have to hammer out the details with the Hale alphas, but I'm putting my seal of approval on it. We'll be in touch. And, uh, guess we'll see you on Monday."

"Leave without me," Lydia commands, "I'm going to stay with Allison and talk destruction."

 

Stiles drops Danny off on his way home, still turning it all over in his mind. He was born a mage, it wasn't a title he had to earn or have handed to him. Allison may have been raised a leader, but he wonders what convinced the Argents to name her Matriarch at the age of fifteen. Nothing he's thought of yet has been comforting.

It's nearly ten but the house is dark. He still hasn't gotten a chance to talk to his dad about Isaac, and he wonders if he can wake up early enough to catch him tomorrow. Though, this probably isn't the type of conversation to have while his dad's rushing out the door. His stomach spasms, and he groans, but grabs one of those disgusting meal as a shake monstrosities Jackson is constantly filling his fridge with. He's drained it by the time he makes it to his room, and tosses it into the what he thinks is the trashcan, but he doesn't turn on the light to check. He's stripped out of his shirts and jeans and has his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers when a cough comes from his bed, and Stiles freezes. He really must have been preoccupied, to not recognize the curl of warmth in his bones. He reaches over to tug on his bedside lamp. Derek is stretched out on top of his covers, washed golden from the light and eyes gritty from sleep. He props himself up on one elbow, and Stiles moves forward enough to cup his jaw and run his thumb over two day old stubble, "Rough day?"

Derek nuzzles Stiles's palm, "Yeah. Peter's been - well, never mind. How was yours?"

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, "Interesting. Can we debrief tomorrow?" Derek dims with disappointment, but nods and starts to push himself out of the bed. "No - can you, will you stay?"

"You sure?" and there's something to his tone which makes Stiles look him in the eye when he answers.

"I always want you - to stay. With me," he's becoming increasingly aware that he's only in his boxers and Derek isn't doing as good a job about keeping his eyes on Stiles's face as he probably thinks he is. "Just - get out of those jeans, Jesus did you paint those things on, and I'm going to take a shower. Be back in ten."

He jerks off under the spray of warm water, just in case his body decides to start reacting to the hot man who's been sharing his bed for six years. He hopes Derek isn't paying close enough attention to him to notice, but he isn't counting on it. When he walks back to his room the light is off, and he drops his towel to slip on a clean pair of boxer-briefs. For the first time forgoes the ratty t shirt he usually throws on, instead slipping into his side of the bed nearly naked. Derek shifts to flush against Stiles's back, and it takes all of his will power not to gasp, because Derek's done the same, wearing nothing but his underwear. He nudges a leg in between Stiles's thighs and curves the customary arm around his waist, and now Stiles's skin is pressed to Derek's, smooth and warm and perfect. "Okay?" he asks, breath hot on Stiles's neck.

He nods, covering Derek's hand with his to twist their fingers together. It's the best he's felt in months, and he's used to feeling safe in Derek's arms, but this bone deep sense of belonging is going to take some getting used to.

 

Stiles wakes up alone, but the space where Derek used to be is still warm. His hands catch on paper left on the pillow, and the sun hasn't really risen yet, so he reads Derek's messy scrawl squinting by the light of his phone.

**I haven't been able to paint your eyes**

**just right for the past 267 days**

**but my fingers cramp from how much**

**I've sketched the V of your hips**

**you don't make my heart skip**

**since you're the reason it's steady**

Oh. Oh, he's so fucked

 

Stiles, as his best friend, is the one to tell Scott that the love of his life is the Matriarch of a family of werewolf hunters during first period. He's disturbingly unconcerned. "Dude, you're sketching out the outline for a three way treaty, like, right now, in front of my eyes. So she passed whatever tests Lydia was pulling when she stayed behind. Meaning Allison's not going to kill us, right? So fair game."

He groans, "Scott. She might. She definitely might if you don't stop hitting on her."

"I'm not hitting on her!"

"You're right, you just stare at her like you're a puppy instead of a wolf, try to offer her your notes for the months of school she missed, and tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. You're not hitting on her, you're courting her, and it's old fashioned and adorable and _gross_."

"Dude," Scott says, eyebrows drawn together, "you have, like, negative room to talk about adorable, gross relationships."

"...I hope Allison shoots you in the ass."

 

He tells Isaac to go drag Erica to sit with them for lunch, he's just heading to the bathroom, he'll catch up. He does go to the bathroom, but only so he can send out the words he's been churning over in his mind like butter. It's literally the only place he can send a text message away from his prying, nosy friends.

_i like the way your_

_hands feel on my hips_

_but the best feeling i know_

_is your heartbeat_

_the only way i breathe_

_easy is with you safe_

_under my hands_

 

He's just finished flipping the omelets when his dad comes downstairs, and he winces internally at the cautious look on his face. Stiles can't remember the last time he woke up at home on a Sunday morning instead of at Derek's loft, and he smiles a little too bright to cover up his guilt. "Morning," he chirps, sliding the plates down at the table, and he winces at the look his dad gives him as he sits down. There's bacon on his plate, which means Stiles is being the opposite of subtle.

"Good morning," he accepts the proffered coffee cup, eyeing his son while Stiles settles across from him, "Did you sleep here last night?"

He looks down at his plate, "I wanted to make sure I caught you first thing. There's something I have to tell you, and I should have told you before but I didn't. So I understand that was wrong, but I'm going to ask that you let me explain everything before you get upset."

"Is this about Derek?"

"Dad," Stiles looks up, and his father's faces is pinched but still calm, "no, not everything is about Derek. This is about Isaac."

"Lahey?" he takes a bite of bacon, "Are he and Cory dating yet?"

Stiles glares, "No, now stop being a Yenta. You met Isaac's dad, right? During those grave desecrations about four years ago?"

"Yes," he's looking at Stiles a little off balance now, "Son, what's the point of this?"

He takes a long sip of his coffee, and he's almost certain his dad will be less upset by the supernatural bullshit going on around town than child abuse, so he's kind of tempted to have that conversation instead, but 'to the sticking place' and all that.

 

"You look like shit." Scott's waiting for him when he pulls into the school parking lot and steps out. "Danny said you skipped running this morning."

Stiles glares, but priorities, so he forgoes being irritated at Scott for throwing his arms around his shoulders and rubbing his nose against his neck, because he's had his best friend for even longer than he's had Derek, and even if they don't evoke quite the same flavor of possession, Scott is still his. "I had a really bad day yesterday, and trust me, I know bad days. Dad was pissed at Mr. Lahey, and a little bit at us but mostly not, and he spent a lot of time switching between  looking like he wanted to commit murder and looking at me like-"

He falters, but Scott squeezes him and presses a kiss to the side of his temple. "Like you're the most important person to him and he'd set the world on fire to keep you safe, and the idea that another father could feel any differently baffles him as much as it terrifies him?"

Stiles sighs and lets his superhuman strong friend take most of his weight, "That's accurate, although oddly specific."

"When Jackson acted like an asshole to Danny, before we figured out being a douchebag was how he showed affection, you looked at me like you were trying to figure out how someone could do that to their best friend. And you and your dad are scary alike."

Stiles nuzzles Scott's chest, "Why can't I be in love with you? It'd be romantic and cliché."

"Oh, trust me," Scott leans his chin on top of Stiles head, "you've got romantic and cliché covered all on your own. Although it'd probably be easier to convince you to date me than Allison."

"Twenty six," Stiles says, "if we don't have something resembling a decent love life by twenty six, we get married and adopt Asian babies of wolf cubs or something."

"Deal," Scott says with enough seriousness that Stiles grins, "now let's get to class before we're late."

 

Second period is English and he doesn't notice anything wrong until Lydia slaps her hand to her mouth, and Lydia Martin just ruined her lipstick during second period, the world is actually ending. He twists his head around, trying to find the cause, but she just taps his notebook with a perfectly manicured finger.

There's a scrap of paper taped to the front, and he'd try to hide it from Lydia but she's obviously already read it. He hears Derek's voice in his head as his eyes travel down the page.

**I really saw you for the first time when**

**You'd returned a stack of Nancy Drew**

**I used to read those in dark corners**

**Afraid of what others would think, or do**

**But you looked me in the eyes**

**I wished I could be so brave**

**How was I suppose to know you'd**

**seep into me like a heat wave**

Stiles lays his head down on his desk, curving around the poem as if to shelter this thing between him and Derek from the rest of the world.

"You two really are kind of hopeless at this, aren't you?" Lydia asks, but she sounds fond.

Stiles hunches a little more, because he doesn't know what they're doing, he knows how this ends, of course he does, but he just hopes they can get there in one piece.

 

Jackson throws an apple off the back of Stiles's head, catches it on the rebound, and takes a huge bite out of it before it can bruise while he shoves Scott over to claim his spot at the lunch table.

"That hurt," Stiles rubs the back of his head.

Jackson swallows, "Whatever. News update on your life, Lahey."

Isaac perks up, and everyone pretends not to notice the way he slides his hand in Cory's, "Oh?"

"My dad talked to your dad and Stiles's dad did nothing, he literally stood there and just looked intimidating, which on another note how come you're a high mage and about as scary as a half drowned kitten? Anyway, your dad folded like a house of cards, congratulations, our alpha is going to officially be your legal guardian."

Lydia kisses him on the cheek and Isaac wiggles around to do the same, and Jackson never manages content quite as well as when the people he cares about show they care about him.

 

_yo lyds derek approved boyd do your worst p.s. does erica think we're murderers cause she's avoiding us like isaac used to_

_Boyd, Erica, Jackson, and I are getting pedicures. Also, we ARE murderers._

_boyd's getting a pedi??????_

_I appreciate that Jackson doesn't surprise you. Go annoy Scott or blow Derek or something._

He scowls down at his phone."She's got a point," Isaac says.

Stiles twitches, turning slowly to see Isaac peering over his shoulder with Cory on his back so that she can read too. "It's really fucking creepy that I didn't notice you were there. Why didn't I notice that you were there?"

"Cause the town's crawling with werewolves?" Cory offers, seemingly as content to remain wrapped around Isaac like an octopus as he is to let her. "Honestly, the only people you're likely to notice are Scott, because he's your bestest best friend brother from another mother, and Derek, cause he's your disgusting true love soul mate."

Stiles pockets his phone, "I thought we were ignoring my relationship with Derek? Why aren't we all doing that anymore, I liked when we were doing that."

"Dude.  You're seventeen, that's legal in most of the US. Not that anybody would actually care, but throw the dog a bone, or, you know, a boner."

He scrunches up his nose, "Next time a vampire nest rolls in to town, I'm letting them eat you."

Cory pouts, but Isaac squeezes the calves wrapped around his waist, "I'll protect you."

She beams, "See? Isaac will kill the vampires for me. Besides, if we keep getting omegas rolling in, it won't be vampires we have to worry about."

"Does it ever occur to any of you," Danny throws his arm around Stiles's shoulder, "that it's a miracle the entire town doesn't know about this, considering we just stand in the middle of a crowded school parking lot discussing this stuff?"

"It's not so crowded anymore," Isaac offers, and indeed most of the cars have gone. Or all of them. They actually probably look pretty creepy right now.

"Right," Stiles claps his hands, "Well Lydia and Jackson are initiating the new recruits, and Scott's looking pathetic outside Allison's window and hopefully not getting killed. So I vote we grab Cora and get pizza and then play video games until something tries to kill us."

"Fuck yes, I love watching her crush you guys in Mortal Combat. There's just something about watching the hope drain from your eyes," Cory confides.

"Why doesn't Cora just join the pack?" Danny asks while sliding into Stiles's Jeep, content to leave Isaac and Cory to themselves. "She spends more time with us anyway."

"Politics," Stiles says, pulling out, "it's one thing for Talia's brother and his kid to break off from the pack, but Cora would be a step too far."

"Derek's her _brother_. It's just as logical for her to be in our pack as Laura's."

"Look," he sighs, "I didn't say it was logical. I said it was politics."

 

Stiles manages to text Derek while alone in his kitchen under the guise of making nachos.

_the scar on my left shoulder_

_is proof of flames i fought_

_to get to you, for you_

_later the earth marked_

_me as her mage, her will_

_but long before that_

_your eyes had branded me_

_with a mark of possession_

_no one else can see, and yet_

_i hold against my ribs_

_as precious and vital to me_

_as my own heart._

_you are my heart_

Stiles hesitates only a second before pressing send.

 

Allison slides into the seat across from him at Starbucks, and Stiles looks up from his laptop to quirk an eyebrow at her. He obligingly shuts it and slides it into his bag when she places her piece of cake in the center of the table, an extra fork balanced invitingly on the edge of her plate. He spears a bite off  the side - he wouldn't take the tip, he's not a monster - and asks, "Okay, what's up?"

"Don't you keep a leash on your dogs?"

He snorts, "Which dog? I'm sure Peter's into that kind of shit, but I wouldn't know. Nor do I have any intention of finding out. "

She leans back, crossing her knees so her skirt slides up her thighs. Even if she wasn't a badass, Stiles could see the appeal. She's hot like burning. "I was approached about the state of our alliance yesterday by Isaac Lahey and Cordelia Hale."

"Cory's a human," Stiles defends.

Allison grins, "See, that's what I wanted to talk to your about."

Stiles lowers his fork, "A human born from a wolf can only be turned by an alpha outside their family and pack. If you think any of them are willing to let her get bitten by someone else, or even that _she_ 's willing to get bitten at all, your information is faulty."

"The last thing we needs is another werewolf. I drove out of town to Marie's bakery yesterday, and I passed so many werewolves I deserve a goddamn medal not for shooting something," she rolls her eyes, "I have a proposition for you. Your coven consists of only three - and even though you're all disturbingly powerful, there are some rituals which require five participants."

"Alan's always willing to help in a pinch."

"That still leaves you short one, and his magic is too settled to mesh easily with yours. You need magic users around your own age, who's magic is still flexible enough to adapt to a high mage."

He throws up his hands, "I know! What's your point?"

"I'm offering a trade. We have some contacts in the covens, and with your coven's dynamic and specialties in mind, I believe we could supply two perspective members. In return, Cordelia trains with us a hunter."

Stiles stares, but Allison just takes a sip of her lukewarm tea. "Are you insane? Look, I like you, my coven likes you, you know that. Bur no way Derek gives Argents free reign over his cousin and pack member."

"He will if you support it," Allison leans forward, "Look, this treaty is in name only right now. Most of my family is wary and distrustful, and not enough of them have had positive interactions with the supernatural. We don't even need to discuss why the Hales don't like us. But this isn't working together, it's working alongside each other, and a battle is in the works. Don't look at me like that, why else would so many wolves and other creatures be gathering? And it's because of you, attracted to a high mage's magic, so you have a responsibility here. You may not be the cause of this, but you're certainly the catalyst of it. If we're going to survive it, we need to learn to work _together_ , don't you understand?"

There's a scowl in the corner of her lips and liquid steel along her spine. Stiles says, "I'm starting to understand why they named you matriarch." She smirks, and he continues, "One, don't call her Cordelia, it's Cory. Second, we have a deal. You start up on your end, and I'll convince my people of this."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

She starts to stand, but Stiles grabs her wrist. "Wait, one more thing. About Scott - if you're really not interested, he'll back off. He's not trying to disregard your boundaries or anything, he's a good guy, it's just that you drive him crazy. In a good way."

Allison twists out of his grip, but leans down to press a kiss to Stiles's cheek. "I can take care of myself. If I objected to his actions, he would know."

Stiles grins, pulling the remainder of the cake over to himself. He still has over a half a paper to type up, but all in all a productive afternoon.

 

Derek's firm "Absolutely not" is undermined by Cory and Isaac high fiving. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and his pack does their best not to laugh at him. They're scattered around the living room of his loft. "Why?" he asks them, and Isaac looks apologetic for as long as it takes Cory to wrap her arm around his waist.

"Whether we like it or not, werewolves are being pulled here. We don't know what they're planning to do. The Argents, for better or worse, are going to be our best bet at getting out of this with all pack members intact."

Derek glares at his cousin, growls, "They're werewolves, not monsters."

"As if I'm unable to tell the difference?" Cory challenges, and Peter tenses in his seat. "I think I'm more qualified than the rest of you at that. They're not acting like people, they're acting like _wolves_. These aren't settled families of four we're talking about - it's a gathering of packless or homeless wolves, or both, and they're not here to make nice. They haven't broken our borders yet, but they aren't respecting them either."

"We don't know why -"

"Oh please," Cory scoffs, and they're right up in each other's faces now, "That's bullshit. We know exactly what they want. We don't know if they want to kill him or claim him as their own, but it's pretty fucking obvious they're here for _Stiles_. So unless you want to fucking roll over and play dead, let them take him away from you-"

"They will not!" Derek thrusts Cory against the wall, and her head makes a sharp cracking sound against the brick wall.

Peter and Isaac are on their feet, but it only takes a moment for Cory to shake off her disorientation and a smirk that looks like Peter's to curl around the corner of her lips, "See? Look how easily your control is wrenched from you, _Alpha_ Hale. I've known you my whole life, but every wolf from here to New York knows he's your most tender spot. There are hundreds of werewolves closing in, and we're not going to be enough. So we're going to learn to play nice with the Argents, and I'm going to train with hunters. I'm not some fucking army wife, Derek. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch my family die and not do anything about it. So live up to your title, Alpha, and take this deal, or keep your mouth shut as everything you love burns around you. Again."

She easily breaks free of Derek's slack grip, and storms outside. Isaac squeezes Derek's shoulder before following her. He's still facing the wall when Lydia breaks the silence by saying, more analytically than surprised, "That was cruel."

"Yeah," Peter sighs, "she probably got that from me. Sorry."

Stiles shares a look with Scott, and he fights between which Hale to go to. Scott's already out the door when Stiles pushes a hand in the center of Derek's back and presses a kiss to his shoulder, "I'll stay the night, okay? Be right back." He glares at the rest of the pack as he leaves, hoping they'll do something about him.

When he gets downstairs he finds Cory sobbing in the middle of a werewolf sandwich, face pressed to Issac's chest while Scott is curved around her back. They both reluctantly move back when Stiles gets closer. Cory lifts her chin, arms wrapped around herself and eyes red. "I didn't mean it, obviously, but I'm not taking it back. He needed to hear it, and it clearly wasn't going to come from you."

"You really think that was necessary?"

She snarls, and Stiles is glad she wasn't born a wolf because it would've been terrifying. "There are so many wolves gunning for blood that most of the Argent Clan has settled into Beacon Hills, and Talia isn't doing anything about it, not really, and it's great Stiles, it really is, that you can bat your eyelashes and get Derek to listen to you, but if he doesn't understand what's at stake here it doesn't matter. It's not enough, and if he needs a push to know that this isn't a fucking game, then I'll be the one to give it to him."

She's trembling now, and Stiles gets her point, he does, because up until Allison had given him her own lecture this morning he hadn't really thought about what the gathering wolves meant either. "You couldn't have made him understand some other way?"

"What the hell," she says quietly, "do you think my father has spent the past few months trying to do? If it takes Derek hating me to get him to take this seriously, that's fine."

"He doesn't hate you," Scott takes her hands, "He could never hate you - you're his pack, basically his sister. Come on Cory, let's go back inside."

She shakes her head, stepping closer to Isaac. "I can't. I'll spend the night at Talia's, okay? If Derek - he knows where I am."

She turns to Isaac, but he shakes his head. "I'm coming with you."

"You're a really good friend," she says, laying her hands on his chest.

"You're my best friend," Isaac says seriously, and he throws Stiles an apologetic look before steering Cory to her car.

Stiles sighs, and doesn't resist when Scott pulls him into his arms, hugs back as tight as he can. "She's not wrong," Scott says, his cheek pressed to the top of Stiles's head. "Lydia's been meeting up with Allison to talk about it. I think it's what prompted her to recruit Boyd in the first place. And I know it's been over a year since the whole you killing yourself thing, but if you think that the idea of another situation where you might end up dead doesn't make Derek want to stick his head in the sand, you need to pay more attention."

Stiles tries to burrow even closer and presses his nose to Scott's neck, "We kind of fucked this one up, didn't we?"

Scott kisses Stiles's forehead, "It's cool, we'll figure it out from here. But, you know, Cory's the levelheaded one for a reason. We should listen to her next time."

"When did you get so smart?" Stiles grumbles, trudging their way to the loft.

When they get there, Derek's nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the pack is hunched over a map of northern California. Jackson throws Stiles his phone when they walk in, "Call Boyd and Erica and get them over here. We don't have time to pussy foot about this anymore."

"Where's Derek?" he asks instead.

"He heard Cory's car," Lydia says, copying down a string of number from her computer screen, "So now he's going to his mom's to drag her back home, and they're probably going to puke emotions all over each other and say sorry, and come back as close as the siblings they're actually not."

Stiles walks over and lays a hand on her shoulder, "I should have paid more attention to your warnings, and I'm sorry I didn't."

He feels her muscles unclench beneath his hand, "Just call the newbies, Stiles."

"Yes ma'am," he says softly.

 

Stiles texts his father at when it's edging close to eleven, _im staying at derek's 2night_

_Remember: safe, sane, and consensual._

_i hate you_

_Less than three._

_omg dad <3  you too_

Stiles wakes to Derek crawling into bed sometime near morning, and settles his hand in the older man's hair when he lays his head on Stiles's chest. "You smell like Erica," Derek says.

"She sat next to me on the couch. Is it all good with Cory?" he asks.

He nods, rubbing his thumb along Stiles's hip to scent mark him. "Yeah, we - yeah. I'm scared, Stiles."

"Don't worry," he murmurs, sliding his hand down to splay his fingers over Derek's throat and runs his thumb over the edge of his jaw, "I'll protect you."

 

When he flips over his comforter to crawl in bed the next night, there's a piece of paper laying on top of his sheets.

**you told me you were scared once**

**not of pain or death or failure but of**

**letting down those surrounding you**

**I fear I'll hurt those that I love**

**through ignorance and inexperience**

**am I doing everything wrong?**

**how, in this place of terror,**

**did you become so strong?**

He wants to be angry at them - Peter and Cory and Lydia - for making Derek feel this way, except that they were _right_. Neither he nor Derek had been taking this threat very seriously, and it took the Argent Matriarch and Cory losing her shit for them to start reacting appropriately. He curls into bed and takes his phone off his nightstand.

_i learned love from my father_

_strength from my mother_

_loyalty from scott_

_and i learned to be brave_

_from you_

_i learned so many things from you_

_you taught me to trust myself_

_as much as i trust you_

_so now you must trust yourself_

_as much as you trust me_

_and together we will walk_

_untouched through fire_

 

Allison grabs the open seat next to Stiles in history, and Scott gives them both utterly betrayed looks before going to sit with Erica and Jackson on the other side of the room.

"So," the hunter says, "Cory is wonderful and perfect and wow, have you all been wasting her potential. But that's okay, because now we get to play with it."

"She been training and fighting with werewolves since she was born," Stiles points out, "she's not your average human."

"Not the point," Allison slides a folder a over to him, "You've held up your end, here's mine. Review them and let me know if they're acceptable. If so, they'll be ready to move out here in few months, probably during the summer." She flashes him a dazzling smile before focusing her attention on the board, and he swears to god he can hear Scott's love lorn sigh from all the way across the room.

 

"Braeden Tandy and  Emily McKnight," Stiles says, Danny and Lydia sitting next to him on his bed as they sort through the file Allison had given him. "Braeden's a traditionally trained druid, and Emily was passed around a few different covens during her year and a day training as a witch, since apparently she showed so many varied aptitudes that they wanted to give her an equally varied training."

"Emily has a long term girlfriend," Danny says, "Caitlin Williams. She'd be accompanying her to Beacon Hills. She's an art teacher."

Stiles stiffens, "But she's in a committed long term lesbian relationship, right?"

"Yeah," Danny says, "but it does say here she has a thing for alpha werewolves who also want to be art teachers that are already in long term committed relationships, so we should definitely keep her away from Derek."

Lydia laughs and Stiles throws his pillow at Danny's head. "You're all hilarious. These guys are excellent though, unless either of you have any problems?"

They both shake their head, but Lydia says, "You're biting your lip the way you do when you're not sure about something. What is it?"

He sighs, "They're young, skilled magic users with great references. Why the hell do they want to join a tiny coven in the middle of nowhere California?"

Danny stares and Lydia sighs, "Stiles, _we_ know you're a spastic idiot, but most magic users would kill their own mother at the chance to be in a coven led by a high mage, even one as a ditzy as you."

"Oh," Stiles frowns, "Right, that makes sense."

 

Allison catches up to him just as he's about to back out of the school parking lot, hopping onto the side of his Jeep and keeping her balance by putting one hand on the roof and the other on ledge of the open window. "What the - I mean, hi Allison."

Scott presses close to Stiles, "Hi Allison!"

She nods at Scott, but doesn't look away from Stiles, "Hello. Heads up, a vampire nest is in the area and they've been getting really cozy with a couple of alphas. Thought you'd want to know." She hops down before casually walking away.

Scott leans his head on Stiles shoulder and sighs with actually the dumbest expression he's ever seen on his best friend's face. "Seriously?"

"She's so beautiful. And terrifying."

"Dude," he says, not sure if he's trying to convey exasperated or doubtful, "if hot and scary was your thing, you would've been all over Lydia. And Jackson. And Cora. And Laura. Mark even, on a bad day."

"I think it's the empathy she's rocking," he confided, "like both her and Lydia would totally kill me if I irritated them enough, but Allison might feel bad about it after."

Stiles pulls out onto the main road, "Scott, she's the head of a family of werewolf hunters."

He shrugs, "My mother raised me to be attracted to powerful women."

Stiles snorts, "Come on, we should go tell Derek about the vampires so he can tell Talia and we can kill them all."

"Why can't you just tell Derek _and_ Talia?"

Stiles sighs, "Politics. I already had this conversation with Danny, I know it doesn't makes sense, that's why it's politics."

 

They're all sequestered in the loft again, and Stiles doesn't begrudge Cory her place snuggled up to Derek - they're both still clinging to each other a little after the events of a few weeks ago.

"I think we should just send me into their nest and let them drink my blood. It'll probably kill them," Lydia says.

Jackson tightens his arm around her waist, "How about no."

"Spoilsport," she mutters.

"That might not be a bad idea," Erica says, but hold up her hands at Jackson's wounded look. "I meant the part where we kill them with Lydia's blood. We could inject them with it - easier than containing them for a weeks and starving them to death."

Boys shakes his head, "Why do guys like to get so fancy? Let's just go in there and rip there heads of like you guys did last time. Better yet, make the Argents do it."

"This would be a good trial run to see how we work together," Stiles says,  "we could send in a few of us, a few of Talia's pack, and some Argents to clean it up."

"Normally I'd be fine with that," Derek's lips are pulled down at the corners, "but since they're holed up with three Alpha werewolves, I'm less gung-ho about sending you guys in there."

"I'll go," Stiles says, "Don't give me that look Derek, it makes sense. If I can trap them with mountain ash then they're slim pickings. And the really powerful vampires don't bother with us anymore - after a few hundred years, mortal affairs get boring. So I think we should go in as a six man team - two from each group."

"I'll go with Stiles," Scott says with a sideways glance to Derek who doesn't look happy but also doesn't protest, "and Talia will probably send Laura and Cora."

"Allison will want to go," Cory says, "and I can probably convince her to take me too." Isaac and Peter tense at that but don't say anything against it.

Derek looks around at the determined faces of his pack before grumbling and getting to his feet, "I'll go call Mom."

 

"It's _so good_ to see you," Laura has an arm hooked around both Stiles and Scott's neck, holding the boys suffocatingly close. "I haven't seen you guys in weeks. When do you think Mom and Derek are going to get over this territorial bullshit?"

"Hopefully soon." Stiles mutter, flipping the Camaro's keys in the air, "I'm surprised Talia hasn't made noise about how much time you've been spending with us," he says to Cora.

She shrugs, "My allegiance is still officially with her, and she's not willing to push me in case that changes."

They start piling into the Camaro, Stiles waving off Derek's brooding form in the doorway before they drive off. "Would you?" Scott asks, buckling himself in.

Cora shrugs, "Probably not. I don't know what's going on with Mom lately though - Peter and Cory visited a few times about the supernatural convention going on, and she kind of brushed it off. Dad didn't even respond to it."

Stiles frowns, sharing a quick glance with Scott before saying, "How long has this been happening?"

"Ever since Derek became Alpha. We think it has something to do with that, but you'd think they'd have gotten over that by now."

"You'd think," Stiles murmurs, turning it over in his mind. But soon enough they're pulling into a mostly empty parking lot the next town over, and Cory and Allison are already waiting for them. They're leaning against a black SUV, decked out in black leggings and long sleeve t shirts, looking to all the world like two teenagers out for a milk run. "Nice heels," he says to Allison, and his tone is neutral, but he's pretty sure his eyebrows are judgey. He probably picked that up from Derek.

She gives her own judgey eyebrow right back, "They help me balance." Stiles, through long exposure to Lydia, is pretty sure heels don't work that way, but he's not about to call her out on it on account of his never having worn heels himself.

"They look really good on you," Scott says, earnest, and Allison doesn't smile, but her judgey eyebrows go away, so it's very possible his best friend has been making progress while he wasn't paying attention.

"So, plan," she says, "We can't surprise them, so we're just going to have to ambush them. Stiles, Scott, Cora, I want you in first because we need to isolate the alphas before we attack the vampires. Stiles, get that mountain ash down, and get it down fast. You two make sure he doesn't get mauled while he does it. Then we'll come in to help you take care of the vampires. I'll be coming in through the northeast window with my arrows, and Cory will come through the northwest window. Laura, I just want you to follow the boys and Cora in, you're the werewolf with the most battle experience, and I want you to keep an overarching eye on everything. Fight as need be, but your larger task is to keep your eye on _everything_. By last count, we'll be fighting five alphas and eight vampires of unknown power level, and it'll be easy to lose track of one. That's how people get killed." She flicks her gaze to meet each of their eyes before saying, "Any question?"

"You're amazing," Scott says, a dopey smile stretching across his face.

Laura rolls her eyes, "Nope, sounds like you know your shit. Let's kick some ass."

 

It starts off going exactly according to plan, up until about five minutes in. The alphas are safely behind a pile of mountain ash, and the vampires are a lot stronger than Stiles is comfortable with, but they're holding their own. Cory has a dagger in each hand with curves blades, and Stiles has always known that the older girl was strong and fast, but _shit_ , she's also deadly with some knives at her disposal, and Allison is all grace and smooth motions. She doesn't waste a single twitch of her muscles, every movement designed to end in a blow landed or target hit.

"No!" Laura snarls, "The ash!"

Stiles and Scott have been fighting back to back, and they both turn to see one of the vampires breaking the line of mountain ash. Laura attacks him furiously, and Stiles nudges the mountain ash back into place as quick as he can, but it's not quite fast enough. One of the alphas escapes, and Stiles feels a cold hand grasp his throat. He leans back into the vampire, pressing his hand against its thigh and letting his magic rise against his skin. The vampire yelps, more akin to werewolf than the undead, and let's him go. In the handful of seconds this takes, the alpha has headed straight for Stiles, fangs and claws out to rip him to shreds. Another hand on his throat and claws tearing their way down his back, and fuck, it doesn't hurt. When you're so injured it doesn't hurt, that's when you need to worry. The claws dig deeper into his skin, there's black spots dotting his vision, and he thinks it a shitty deal that he's going to die before he can figure things out with Derek.

"Let. Him. Go." Stiles blinks as the claws rip themselves away, and he wants to let go, that's how much authority that command had. He has to blink a few more times before he sees Scott locked in battle with the alpha - and shit, Scott's always been hella strong as a wolf, but Stiles is still surprised he can go toe to toe with an alpha. He's losing too much blood, the world is starting to go a little hazy, and he wants to blame the flash of red he sees in Scott's eyes on that.

He really, really wants to blame it on visual hallucinations due to blood loss. He takes a quick look around, and Cora has lost use of most of her left leg, and the dark clothes aren't hiding the blood dripping down Cory's side.

He stumbles over to the vampire Allison is locked in combat with, a woman who's the exact opposite of every stereotype. Her brown skin may not fit convention, but the fangs jutting out of her mouth do. He throws himself in between them, trusting Allison to pull her punches so she doesn't impale Stiles instead. His hands are wrapped around the woman's biceps, and he lets enough magic rise to the surface of his skin so that she can feel it, but not enough that it can harm her. His eyes glow silver and he says, "Kill the alphas, and I'll let you keep your lives."

"You may not yet keep your own life," she says, and he's going to pretend that the look on her face isn't hunger.

He shrugs, "I've survived worse. And you must know that if I don't survive, neither will you."

He's holding onto her more to keep himself from falling, and she must know because she pushes him towards Allison, who takes his weight easily, and says, "You have a deal, little mage."

She whistles, low and sharp, and the other seven vampires turn from the human and wolves they'd been fighting to attack the alphas. Scott is pushed aside by three vampires and the alpha he'd been fighting is quickly overwhelmed. No one's moving, staring at the vampires swift dismemberment in clear confusion. Then Stiles's knees buckle and he slumps on top of Allison.

"Stiles!" Scott's at his side, shifting him from Allison's grip to his own, "Stiles, come on, stay with me."

 His eyes are flaring red again, and Stiles brings up bloody hands to cup his best friend's face. "Not yet," he says, eyes glowing silver while he rubs his thumbs under Scott's eyes, letting his magic leak out. Oh, that was a bad idea, not because that took a lot of magic, but because it didn't. His body is throbbing now with the strength of not letting the rest of it out, of not letting his magic out of control. He'll level this whole building if he does. "The tree," he gasps, too quiet for human ears, but Scott clutches him tighter. Stiles lets unconsciousness take him, because in a battle between him and his magic he's not sure he can win.

 

He wakes up at the base of his tree, fully healed as he'd hoped, with two bodies curled around him, but not the two he'd expected. His head is resting on Lydia's arm and she's wrapped around his back, while Danny is pressed to his front with his own hands locked around Stiles's arm that he's tugged over his waist. Dawn is creeping over the horizon, and he _cannot_ miss school, because his dad will notice.

"Guys?" he whispers, because they need to get going, but he doesn't actually want to move. He tugs up Lydia's sleeve and brings his magic to his fingertips so he can brush across her skin and see his mark there. A Celtic tree, the same mark that he used to carry on is ribs. He does the same thing to Danny, and with the way they're positioned, he can't see the mark, but he knows it's there, that these two people have dedicated themselves to him as much as he has to them, and he tries not to think about it too often, because it tends to make his chest hurt. "I love you guys."

Danny twists in his hold so he's facing Stiles, hooking his arm around him and Lydia both. His big brown eyes are unusually serious when he presses their foreheads together, "We love you too. So if you could stop almost dying on us, we'd really appreciate it."

"What he said," Lydia yawns, her arms tightening around Stiles to the point it's almost painful, but he knows better than to complain.

"Sorry," he says, "I didn't do it on purpose."

"You never do," Danny grumbles, rolling to his feet and holding out both hands to pull Lydia and Stiles to their feet. "Come on, Derek left us all a change of clothes in the Jeep, which he also conveniently drove here."

Stiles winces, and it's not from the pops his spine makes when he stretches, "How mad is he?"

"Mad?" Lydia says, "Not at all. Upset, worried, panicked, pained? Maybe just a little."

Stiles groans while he pulls clean clothes over his head. "Awesome."

"How did you know the tree would heal you?" Danny's putting on fresh pair of jeans, and both he and Lydia tilt their heads to the side for a better view.

"I didn't," Danny turns around, so Stiles moves his eyes from his backside to his face with hardly any lingering around the chest area, "but I figured it couldn't hurt."

Lydia's pressed her lips together so tightly they're a dash on her face. Danny's skin has gone a few shades paler and his hands are clenched into fists. "Do yourself a favor - don't tell Derek that. Or Scott that. Or literally anyone, and we'll both try and forget how callous you are your with your own life."

"I won't follow anyone else," Lydia spits, and Stiles takes a step away from her fury. "If you die, there's no replacement. I will wear your mark to my grave - you are our coven leader, and no one else is good enough."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before Danny sighs and pulls him into a one armed hug, "Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay," he says, feeling small and loved and overwhelmed. "I - I don't mean to - I just - okay. I'll be more careful," he promises, and Lydia's face gentles enough that he figures he can breathe easily again.

 

He gets mauled by the pack at school and Erica gives him a scowl fierce enough to rival Lydia's, but Scott just walks with him to class with their shoulders brushing. They almost make it there when Allison steps in front of them, eyebrow raised.

"Hey," he grins, and tries to remember he's a badass high mage. He still wants to shrink down under her heavy gaze.

"I'm glad you're okay, but we need to talk. Alone." She turns her stare to Scott.

He nods, "I'll see you in class."

Allison blinks, following Scott's retreating figure. "Is he okay?"

"Why?" Stiles asks, because the answer is NOPE but he's not comfortable telling Allison that.

She shrugs, "He didn't flirt with me. But we have bigger problems - what the hell was that last night?"

He takes a deep breath, "Look, I'm sorry I made a deal with the vampires, you were the leader and I completely undermined your authority -"

"Shut up," she waves as if shoving all of what he'd just said away, "No, that was fine. We were losing, and you managed to make allies of enemies, which is clearly something I approve of. I want to know _how_ you did it."

"Oh," Stiles says, "well, I'm a high mage. So I made a deal with a creature of magic. Different types, which is why I can burn them if I touch them, but I do have some sort of technical authority over them. Not that it really matters, since only creature of white magic actually care, but I kinda owe them a favor? And that's a powerful thing. So."

Allison's eyebrow is raised, "Wasn't your favor not killing them?"

"Not really. It was more like - incentive. I wouldn't have been able to kill them all without killing myself, and I'd rather avoid death. I make a better ally than some two-bit alphas."

"So you're more useful alive than dead, and you'd have killed yourself to kill them, so you offered the lady vampire her options of a lose-lose scenario or a win-win scenario, and she chose the latter, obviously."

He scratches the back of his head, "Yeah, pretty much."

Allison shakes her head, "Right of course. You can really burn vampires with your touch?"

"If I concentrate."

She stares, "That's some Sorcerer's Stone shit."

He sputters, but she's already half way down the hallway before he can form words again, so he laughs instead.

 

_i need to talk to scott. i won't be home after school_

_I need to see you_

_i know i'm sorry. come over tonight ok?_

_Okay_

Scott is quiet most of the way home until he realizes they just missed the turn for both their houses. "Please tell me we're not going to the Hales. I really don't - just, not now."

Stiles shakes his head, "No, we're going to see Alan. Because dude, what the fuck?"

"I don't know," Scott's voice sounds small, and Stiles reaches over to grasp his shoulder. "I really don't know."

"You haven't killed any alphas lately?" Scott glares, "Look dude, I know. But last night you weren't moving like a beta, and your eyes were red."

"What did you do?" Scott's fingers graze the skin under his eyes. "It feels different."

"Magical suppressant. Which yes, is not okay for me to do without explicit permission, but your eyes were red, dude." Stiles flicks his gaze from the road to Scott for a moment, "I can take it off."

Scott slumps down in his seat, "Not yet."

Stiles nods, pulling into the clinic. "Hopefully Alan has some answers."

"Hopefully he has some clear cut answers," Scott grumbles.

Stiles snorts.

 

They're sitting on Stiles's bed, not having said much since leaving Deaton's. "You sure you don't want me to take it off?" Stiles says, glancing up from picking at his bedspread to look at Scott.

His best friend shakes his head, "What would we even do with four alphas? Could I still be in Derek's pack? Stiles I don't even get this."

"I guess," Stiles rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, "I guess it's like me and being a mage. Like, I was always going to have magic, but if I'd never used it, I wouldn't have known? If we hadn't stumbled across the Hale fire, I might not have become a high mage, or any kind of magic user. So you've always had the potential to be a true alpha - it just wasn't relevant until you became a werewolf." Scott's looking young and miserable, so Stiles scoots closer to him, "Dude, this doesn't have to be a bad thing. When the transition finishes, you'll be stronger and faster."

"When's the last time Talia and Derek were in the same room together?" That takes Stiles a moment, and when he remembers he doesn't say anything. "I don't want that to happen between me and Derek. Dude, I've known that guy forever. And have you thought what this means for you? To have the love of your life and your best friend at constant odds over stupid power tripping bullshit?"

"This isn't about me," Stiles says, ignoring the skip of his heart at Scott's description of Derek, and instead focusing on how the idea of being pulled between two of his most important people makes his skin itch.

"Dude," Scott says, the downturn of his mouth unexpectedly serious, "it's _always_ about you. You - you hold us all together. You and I, we're tight, we're brothers. We were always going to be together. But everyone else - we wouldn't all be in each other's lives if it wasn't for you. So yeah, this is about you."

Stiles's mouth is dry, and he tackles Scott so he's spread eagle on top of the bed with Stiles on top of him. "I stand by what I said," he mutters into Scott's collarbone, "this is about you. I'll support you no matter what, and we'll figure things out with Derek. Okay?"

Scott scrapes his fingers through Stiles hair, laughing a little when the other boy goes boneless, and says, "Okay."

 

Erica comes in about ten minutes after Scott leaves, and Stiles would wonder how she got in, except he's positive his dad got one look at her big brown eyes and sent her up. "Hey Batgirl," he says, and before he can get up she throws herself onto his bed and on his chest, curling up and wriggling on top of him until she's settled, like a huge cat. "Comfortable?" he asks, and tries for stern but it's probably obvious how hard he's trying not to laugh.

She nods, "I got into an argument with my mom."

"What about?" He settles his hand on her back, digging in to the tight muscles around her shoulders.

"Stuff. Mostly you guys - you know that you all come off as fucking terrifying to everyone, right?"

"We all, you're a part of us now too," he corrects, "and yeah, we are. We mean well. Thank God we have Jackson and Danny as covers for normal people."

"When those two are our best example of normal people, you know you're fucked."

Stiles snorts, "Danny is made of sunshine. Jackson's our resident lovable douchebag."

Erica giggles, and it makes Stiles want to gather her up and protect her from all the bullshit. She twists her fingers in the material of his shirt, "How do you do it? With your dad? He seemed nice."

"He's the best," Stiles's agrees readily, "and what I have on my side is that he works long hours, and a long standing tradition of being out and about and not where I'm supposed to be. When I was younger and still figuring everything out, I spent pretty much all my time with Alan or one of the adult Hales, and it's just - I don't know, how it's always been, I guess. At this point." He clears his throat, blinking away the pressure behind his eyes.

She presses a kiss to the edge of his jaw, "Do you miss him, sometimes?"

"Yeah," he says, voice gruff, "I love you guys, and the Hales, and especially now there's just _so much_ to do, but - yeah. I miss him. And he's right here, that's so stupid, I know it is-"

She pushes her hand against his mouth, "It's not stupid, it's great you love your dad so much. Maybe when things quiet down it'll get better."

"Maybe," he says, holding Erica a little bit closer because she's comforting in the same way Scott is, and it's great. "Do you want to watch some movies or something?"

"Iron Man? The second one."

Stiles grins, "You're awesome, you know that? Do you have any fucking idea how many times Danny and I have seen The Notebook because of Lydia? And poor Jackson - fun fact, you can quote any line of that movie at him and watch his face droop into despair and pain."

 

He wakes up sometime around three in the morning, Erica still buried into his side and laptop screen black. He shivers, and tightens his grip on Erica until he realizes his window is open. He looks around, and Derek's nowhere to be seen, but he knows the window was shut when he fell asleep. "Derek?" he whispers, sliding out of bed and creeping toward the window, "are you there?" He leans out the window and cranes his neck toward the roof, and the warmth throbbing down his spine means Derek is definitely here, and he says, "If you don't come to me, I'll have to come to you." Nothing. He scoot's out the window slowly, aware the death by falling and snapping his neck would be incredibly lame at this stage of his life. He stands on the ledge of window, pretty certain he has enough upper body strength to pull himself up.

"Stiles!" Derek hisses, leaning over the edge and hooking his hands underneath Stiles's armpits to haul him up, "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Why does everyone keep accusing me of that?" he grumbles. Derek's moving away from him, which what the fuck, no. He wraps his arms under the unzipped leather jacket to smush his face against Derek's breastbone, "Come to me, my werewolf furnace, Stiles is cold."

"What were you thinking?" Derek asks, stiffly folding his arms over Stiles.

"You weren't answering me," Stiles pouts, "What's with you? What's wrong?"

Derek maintains his standoffish attitude for about another ten seconds before he sighs and drops down to sit on the roof, dragging Stiles with him and settling the younger man between his legs so he can properly drape all over him, "You smell like Erica."

"She's here," Stiles says, "as you well know. She got in a fight with her mom, so she came over and we had a Marvel movie marathon."

Derek doesn't say anything for a while, and Stiles knows that he's upset, but he can't think of why. He tended to get weird when Stiles almost died, but only if he couldn't hear his heartbeat. And considering that Derek had probably spent the past few hours on his roof being a huge creepy stalker by doing that, Stiles is at a loss. Derek drags his nose behind Stiles's ear to scent mark him and says, "Is that all you did?"

"Yeah," Stiles frowns. "I mean, Dad brought us pizza for dinner cause he's awesome, but pretty much. Why?"

"Nothing," Derek says, rubbing his hands against the divots of Stiles's hips, and Stiles doesn't think Derek's been this intent on scent marking him in years. "She's pretty."

"Erica? Yeah, sure," Stiles reaches behind him to press the pads of his fingers to Derek's neck, and feels the older man's muscles relax, "I mean, don't get me wrong, she's hot like burning. I'm waiting for her, Lydia, Cory, Cora, and Allison to take over the world with their scorching beauty. It'll be epic." Derek snorts, and their good now, maybe the older man was just feeling territorial and needed some mutual scent marking. Stiles settles more comfortably against Derek's chest, tilting his head against his shoulder to look at sky. "Tell me about the stars."

"Surely you've heard enough rants from Lydia on astronomy?" Derek murmurs.

"Not science," Stiles whines, "tell me a story." Derek's huff of a laugh is warm air on Stiles's neck.

"In olden times," he whispers in Stiles's ear, "when wishes still helped, the sky stretched above the earth, a canvas of lonely darkness..."

 

When Stiles shows up at the address Allison had texted him, it's a field at edge of town that _isn't_ on Hale property. "The hell are you doing here?" he asks Scott, bumping shoulders with him while waving at Allison. She waves back, but doesn't look away from the men attempting to kill each other without actually attempting to kill each other.

"Allison asks me to help with training sometimes," Scott confides, "she says it helps the men to actually face a werewolf's strength and reflexes."

Stiles shakes his head, "You let her and her clan beat you up just so you be around her, don't you?"

He  shrugs, grin threatening to break his face, "I heal." Stiles shakes his head, but his best friend tugs on his jacket, "Look, Cory's up next."

"Oh," it had been a couple months since Cory had started training with them, and she'd been extremely close mouthed about what she'd been learning. From the fight at the warehouse he knows that she's gotten scary proficient with a pair of knives, but he hadn't really had a lot of time to analyze her fighting style in the moment. Derek had brought up goading some of the wolves into attacking just to see what she'd learned.

Stiles was able to talk him out of that, thankfully.

"She's awesome," Isaac says, coming out of freaking nowhere to clap Stiles on the shoulder.

"You too?" Stiles says, "Why am I only now being invited to this party? I feel neglected."

A dagger sails through the air, missing Stiles's cheek by an inch and embedding itself in a tree some fifteen feet behind him. Scott and Isaac are laughing at him, but Stiles is busy trying to get his heart rate back to normal. "Good morning Stiles!" Cory calls cheerfully. The other hunters are laughing at him too.

"I hate you," he says seriously, "you're an evil, evil woman."

She blows him a kiss, and even kisses Isaac on the cheek when he returns her dagger to her, "I'm wonderful." She throws the knife behind her, and there's a yelp from one of the hunter that almost just got impaled. Scott and Stiles wince, but Isaac just stands there with this stupid grin on his face, and Stiles has seen that look before, usually when Scott is talking about Allison. He really hopes he doesn't look like that around Derek. Cory loops arms with Allison, "So, what's going on?"

"We need to talk vampires," Allison says, "I'd have invited Derek and Talia here, but I'm not sure if that Hales are comfortable with that yet."

Stiles looks around, "Maybe having them meet you here wouldn't have gone over well, but on your own you should be fine."

"Private meetings with werewolves with no back up?" Allison says with a raised eyebrow. Her smirk curls into a grin that almost makes her look her age, "My father will be thrilled. Sounds like an excellent idea."

Now Scott's looking at Allison like a lost puppy, but at least Isaac back's to normal. "Do we know where the vampires are?"

"A few towns away from where we found them - maybe a two hour drive. They haven't contacted you at all?" Allison asks.

Stiles shakes his head, "They may not contact me at all anytime soon. Those guys live a long time - they could call me up tomorrow, but it's just as likely that I won't hear from them until forty years from now."

"She's old," Isaac says, "the leader - like, really, really old."

"In the thousands, probably," Stiles says reluctantly.

Allison's back is uncomfortably straight, "Vampires that old don't tend to bother with us."

"Let's not take anything for granted here," Cory says, ghosting her fingers over Allison's arm, "that's what got us into trouble in the first place. Those connected to magic are doing some really strange shit. The nature spirits are going insane on the preserve - I've gone my whole life without seeing a nymph or troll or faerie, and these past few months I've seen of all of those."

"Nice job, Stiles," Scott nudges his ribs.

Stiles's pout is so exaggerated and ridiculous that even Allison cracks a smile at it, "I don't do it on purpose! The faeries are nice, but the nymphs always laugh when they see me."

"It's cause you suck," Isaac offers, the corner of his mouth twitching at Cory's giggle.

Allison crosses her arms, "There's really nothing we can do about the vampires? We just - wait?"

Scott cautiously puts his arm around her shoulders and grins when she leans into his side, "There are enough rogue wolves in the area to fill a city. Let's focus on one problem at a time."

Allison looks up to grin at Scott, "Wise words."

Scott turns the brightest shade of red Stiles has ever seen, and he deserves all the best friend awards for not laughing in his face.

 

They've loaded her into the ambulance, and Stiles hands are shaking as he texts Derek. _erica had a seizure._

_is she okay? how bad was it?_

_bad. i want you to offer her the bite._

He's not surprised when his phone rings, but he doesn't give Derek time to start talking, "I know you get weird about her sometimes, but I also know you like her - she's pack, and she matters to us, and I want you to turn her."

Derek's quiet on the other end, "Now's not the best time to turn a new wolf."

Stiles practically snarls, "I don't care. She's beautiful and smart and there is no fucking reason for her to still be going through this shit, Derek."

"Okay," the older man says, and Stiles doesn't have the time to wonder at the hesitance in that small word before Jackson's beeping at him impatiently to get in the damn car already.

 

Three days later Stiles wakes up to Derek dropping into his bed, and it takes a few minutes of prodding and maneuvering to get Derek from on top of the covers to under them, and Stiles gets Derek to curl around him and lay his head against his chest. He uses one hand to scent mark Derek around his neck and the other to rub up and down his back. "She okay?"

"The bite took," Derek says, voice a little muffled from his face being pressed into Stiles, "she's going to be fine."

"Thank you," Stiles says, letting his hand rest on Derek's pulse point so he can count the beats of his heart. "She's going to make a great werewolf."

Derek has been silent so long Stiles thought he'd been asleep when he says, "I know. She's pack, she is, and I do like her. She reminds me of Laura. I didn't - I wasn't trying to -"

"Breathe," Stiles says calmly, "and try that again with full sentences."

Derek growls, but does as he's told. "What I meant," he says, "was that I wasn't reluctant to bite her because I don't care for her, or because I don't believe she doesn't belong with us, but because I can be irrational."

"Irrational?" Stiles prompts.

"I was jealous," Derek bites out, "and I know that's stupid and petty and -"

"Yeah," he runs his fingers through Derek's hair, "that's pretty stupid. You shouldn't be jealous of anyone when it comes to me."

"I know," he says, and he sounds a little ashamed and sad, with a fuckton of longing, and that's now what Stiles _meant_.

"Lions don't worry about the opinions of sheep," he says, "so don't worry about anyone else, okay?"

"Yes sir," Derek says, tilting his head to kiss Stiles's chest before drifting off.

Stiles makes sure he's asleep before grabbing his phone to type out a message for Derek to wake up to.

_people are not objects yet i belong to you_

_your presence heals wounds that would scar_

_i've grown up beside you and with you_

_you are forever and always my north star_

 

Stiles ducks underneath another swipe of claws and stabs the dagger between the werewolf's ribs and into his heart. He feels another at his back, but by the time he turns she's lying on her back with three different arrows in her chest and one through her head. "How nice of you to show up!" Stiles calls out, sidestepping a tree root that Danny calls from the ground to trap two of the omegas. An omega that had been heading for him drops with four knives in its chest, so Cory's around here somewhere.

"You're welcome, you ungrateful excuse for a mage!" Allison actually back flips to avoid one of the wolves, and Stile is worried for a moment that now she's too close to use her bow. He shouldn't be though, because he missed the sword strapped to her back that she uses to run through the wolf. He snorts, summons the mountain ash he'd used earlier and makes a circle around her. Allison laughs when she realizes what he's done, picking off the werewolves that stupidly press close but can't touch her. He dives past Danny manipulating the ground so that the omegas he's facing can't manage more than five seconds on their feet before slipping, and ends up back to back with Lydia.

"We can't even renew the wards without shit going down, isn't this getting a tad ridiculous," he shoves his dagger between the wolf's mouth that's attempting to come down on his neck, but against a werewolf's strength, even an omega, he knows he only has seconds. "I'm going to try something, and if it kill us, I'm really sorry," he says, and he can feel the tension in Lydia's back when she senses him bringing his magic to his skin.

"Stiles, NO!" she yells, but he couldn't stop himself now even if he tried. He presses his hand to the wolf's throat, tries to let out just a little, like making a chip in a dam. The magic he lets out burns his palm and also severs her head. Stiles curses and tugs off his flannel, the sweat now pooling at the small of his back and dripping from his face making it heavy and rough against his skin. The rivulets of sweat at the back of his knees are going to itch, but trying to fight in a t-shirt and boxes can only end poorly. This isn't helped that frustrated by her inability to get in killing blow, Lydia just sets the werewolf on fire. "How many times can you do that?"

"Uh," Stiles looks down at his palm, and the burning body provides enough light for him to see the blisters are already healing over, "a lot?"

"Excellent," she sets an incoming wolf on fire, and the wolf manages about five feet before falling, "How many can you kill during my wail?"

He throws his dagger in the next one's eye, because if Lydia's going to wail she shouldn't waste any more energy on fire spells, especially ones powerful enough to kill werewolves. "There's what, eight left? Probably all between me and Danny, plus I think Cory's hiding in a tree somewhere, but we have unprotected hunters here that we shouldn't damage."

Lydia rolls her eyes, "I'll make it a short one, they'll live."

Stiles scans for Allison, finds her on the other side of the battle from the mountain ash circle, cutting a werewolf in half at the torso with two powerful strikes of her sword. "Allison!" she looks over, flicking blood off her blade. He points to Lydia, then to his ears. She nods, starts barking orders to her men, and Stiles thinks he sees them putting earplugs in, which won't do much, but are better than nothing. From the corner of his eyes he sees a figure drop down from a tree opposite to the side the knives had come from the first time. Danny's got a wolf dangling by her neck from a tree branch when he gives them the thumbs up.

Lydia opens her mouth, and wails. Even though it doesn't affect them the same, he and Danny still tremble during the first few seconds, because it's worse than nails on the chalkboard, all the fear of death and the unknown and of mortal's fragility condensed to one long, high screech. It makes their bones shudder, but Stiles and Danny have fought through it before, and they have a battle to win. A knife sails scarily close to Danny's head, shaking them into action. Stiles has burned through two layers of skin before he notices Allison and the hunters, that they're still fighting. Their movements are jerky, but they're all pushing through it. They should be curled in fetal positions, but they're continuing to slice through the werewolves, except for Allison who's switched back to her bow. Danny's using roots, branches, and vines to strangle the wolves and Stiles switches to his left hand before he sears through the skin on his right. Lydia's wail cuts off as soon as Allison lands the killing blow on the last one.

"How did you," Danny pants, "do that?"

Allison gives the other hunters a signal before they all take out their earplugs, "Excuse me?" Cory comes to his side to inspect his already healing hands.

"How the hell did you do that?" Stiles says, and the burn on his hands has reduced to tingling as the skin knits itself back together.

She wipes the blood off  her cheek with the back of her sleeve, "Beeswax from an island off the coast of Greece. I figured if it was good enough for Odysseus against sirens, it might work against banshees." She rubs at her temple, and the hardened soldiers behind her are pale as the moon in the sky and have their arms around themselves, "It wasn't a perfect solution, I admit, but it seemed to work well enough."

Lydia looks like she has a few choice words about that, but she's unsteady enough on her feet that she only glares and accepts Danny's arm around her shoulders. "Incoming," Stiles says, the heat that had been in skin flaring in his bones, "I think it's the Hale packs, so don't attack."

Allison's barely nodded and sent quelling looks to her men when a dozen transformed wolves burst in from the trees, then stop short at the sight of the eight of them standing around nearly twenty dead werewolves. "Stiles?" Derek asks, shoulder to shoulder with his mother.

"You're late," Allison says, swiping her blade against her thigh to clean it of blood. Scott tries to wave at her with his claws, and Stiles resists groaning.

Lydia giggles, resting her head on Danny's shoulder and sending her own wave at Jackson, who's too tense. "I really do like her," she says, fond and honest. "Allison, you're my new favorite."

Erica makes offended sounds, but Allison smiles.

Kevin twitches, "You hear that?"

"Sirens," Peter confirms, grim as he surveys the damage, "how are we planning to explain this to the deputies?"

"We're not," Stiles snaps, tearing his gaze from Derek's, "absolutely not. Thanks for coming everyone, but get the fuck out right now. We'll take care of this."

"Stiles," Isaac begins, but shuts up at his glare and rolls his eyes.

Stiles eyes flash silver, "Go, now. We'll head to Jackson's when we can."

Talia and Derek aren't pleased, but they trust him enough that it doesn't stop them from herding their packs away. Stiles thinks this is probably the first time they've physically been with each other in months.

"What are you planning on doing?" Allison asks, nose crinkled at the number of bodies around them.

Stiles sighs, "Danny? I'm sorry."

He slumps his weight into Lydia, breathes, then stands straight. He chants in Gaelic, too tired to direct the magic on his own, and flowers grow all over the forest floor, rising and maturing until they're tall, beautiful stems of purple bunches.

"Wolfsbane," one of the hunters breathes. Stiles nods at Lydia, who lifts her hands and doesn't use the crutch of Latin, although she could probably do with the break, and all the flowers burst into flames that are just as quickly snuffed out, leaving the forest floor covered in ash.

The sirens are close enough that even Stiles can hear them now. "Don't try this at home kids," his eyes flash silver as the ash rises, and Stiles concentrates until he has control of every particle. He sends a handful down the throat of each body, has to get a little creative with the ones that don't have all their body parts attached. It brings the wolf out in each of them, faces twisted in ways that aren't quite human. Lydia and Danny stand at each of his sides, because this is so much more than he should be attempting. But what he's trying to do is impossible, so they should be fine. He feels for the parts of them that are wolf, twists it, alters and enhances it so when he's finished instead of human looking corpses they're surrounded by the wolves bodies, of the furry, four legged variety. Which the deputies still won't be thrilled about, but still preferable by far.

"That's impossible," Allison says slowly, eyes wide. He likes that he can still make her do that.

Stiles cracks his neck, and that was difficult, but he almost feels good, like after being pent up with too much energy he's gone on a long run. "High mage, impossible is my specialty, I'm amazing that way. That being said, I really think we should get out of here before my dad finds us."

Allison cocks her head in the direction of the siren before nodding, jerking her head to her hunters to head out, "See you at school. We'll be in touch."

"Scott dreams of it every night," he says, slinging Danny's arm around his shoulders to help drag the guy back to his car. One of the hunters trip, but Allison smiles before she scoffs so he counts it a win.

 

"Really?!" Stiles beams down at his mug of espresso and steamed milk.

Jackson turns to hand Danny his mug, and Stiles is sure that it's so he can't see him smile, "This is what happens when you come over not magically depleted or bleeding over everything."

"I'll endeavor to come so unencumbered in the future," he swears, although he always tries not to get hurt, it's just that he's so rarely successful.

 "We need to finally figure out what the hell is going on around here. Getting attacked by a handful of omegas is weird, but twenty? That's not normal," Danny says.

"It was seventeen, I think," Stiles says.

"We were lucky they were just omegas," Lydia says grimly, leaning into Jackson, "those we could handle, but if they'd been betas? With some alphas thrown in for fun? We'd have been screwed."

Danny yawns, "That wasn't a lot of fun as is, I'm beat. Next time can't you get the wood nymphs to grow the flowers?"

Stiles scowls, "No, the nymphs are not to be trusted. I'm still not a hundred percent sure what they did with Charlie."

"You lost the unicorn?" Jackson asks.

"I did not lose him. He's wandering somewhere around the preserve, probably."

Jackson narrows his eyes, "You lost the unicorn. I feel as if I should revoke latte privileges based on that alone."

Stiles clutches his mug and tries to look pathetic - judging by the face Danny is pulling, he doesn't have to try very hard. "Enough serious talk, let's gossip," Lydia commands, snuggling closer to Jackson who shifts accordingly, "Derek has stopped looking at you like he wants to write sad poetry when you're not paying attention."

He flushes at the word poetry, and takes a too long sip of his drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Danny snorts, "Don't lie, you're shit at it. Jackson's already confirmed you guys don't smell like sex, but at least tell me you've had some hardcore make out sessions, I demand this is a thing you tell me, because I must live vicariously through you."

"What? No," Stiles sets his mug on the side table before rolling out of Jackson's bed, and beginning to pace, because the thought of making out with Derek has him feeling like the walls are closing in around him. "I mean, not that I haven't - it's just that-"

"Stiles," Lydia interrupts, on the edge between kindness and exasperation, "you're joking, right? You both have been flirting even more than usual these past few months. You've kissed people before, and it's _Derek_. He's been in love with you longer than probably even he knows."

Stiles uses one hand to grab onto his hair and the other to flail around about his head, and this is why he'd put his coffee cup down. "That's just it, okay? It - it's not, nothing, Derek and I, and I haven't kissed _people_ , I kissed Cory once to suck a demon from her heart and Scott and I have had a few drunken make outs. Derek is - Derek, okay, have you seen him? And if I fuck it up, if it's not good, or even just okay, then he's not someone I can move on from, get it? If Derek kisses me, and it's not good, if this doesn't work out, I'll lose - not everything, because I have you guys and Scott and my dad, and whatever, but I'll lose a lot, okay?"

He's possibly hyperventilating a little bit with his eyes screwed shut, because he loves and trust these people, but wow, was that mortifying. Which is probably why he doesn't notice Jackson until the older boy has a hand on his hip and shoulder, backing him up until he hits the wall. "Jackson?" he squeaks.

He smirks, and wow, he's so close that Stiles can see the green flecks in his blue eyes. "Relax," Jackson says, sliding his hand up from Stiles's shoulder to his neck. He uses his thumb to tilt Stiles's chin at the right angle before leaning in to breathe over Stiles's lips, and if he's going to protest now would probably be the time to do it, but he doesn't. Jackson kisses him slowly, flicks his tongue to get Stiles to move his mouth like he wants, and bites the shorter boy's bottom lip before he breaks the kiss. "Well?"

"Um," Stiles lick his lips, eyes wide, and he's just happy Lydia hasn't killed either of them yet, "What?"

"How was it?" Jackson asks, rolling his eyes.

"Uh, it," he blinks, "you're really, really hot, and good - at, at that. So, it was, um, nice."

Jackson smirks, preening, "Do you really believe that when you do that with Derek, it'll just be 'nice'?"

Stiles is a bright, bright red, he can feel it, "Maybe? Well, no, probably not."

Jackson bounces back onto the bed, far too pleased with himself to be tolerable, "So stop being such a freak and get laid. Loser."

"That," Lydia said slowly, her hand on Jackson's thigh, "was kind of hot."

"Definitely kind of hot," Danny agrees, irritated but with a high flush to his cheeks.

Stiles just holds his head in his hands, and wonders if this is what Alan feels like whenever he has to deal with him.

Probably not. He's way more likable than these assholes.

 

It's nearly three in the morning by the time he makes it back to his own home, and getting up for school tomorrow is going to be a bitch. He doesn't turn on the light when he gets to his room, because he opens the door all the way and sees just what he thought he would, Derek asleep in his bed. He strips to his boxer briefs before crawling under the covers, and nearly squishes the origami flower on his pillow. He needs to sleep, he should leave it alone until morning, but he stands by the window while he carefully unfolds the perfect creases. He holds up the paper to the window to read the words by moonlight.

**you are the only one**

**who can make me laugh**

**when i want to lash out**

**and i remember how we used**

**to stumble  over Shakespeare**

**back before we knew all that**

**you would grow to be**

**the power you wield  would**

**terrify me in a lesser man**

Stiles can't get his breathing down until he's thrown himself on top of Derek, dragging his nose down his throat, whispering "Fuck Derek, just - _fuck_ ," into his skin.

Derek bares his neck to Stiles and settles his hands against his back, eye still closed and his voices slurred when he says, "G'to sleep, s'okay."

Stiles nods, presses a kiss to Derek's collarbone, but falls asleep in his position of half on top of Derek with his ear to his werewolf's heartbeat.

 

Derek is still there when he wakes up the next morning, and Stiles aches at how they're tangled in each other. Derek's arms are so tight around him that it's bordering on the edge between comforting and painful, and one of his arms is under Derek's neck. The other hand is being held by Derek, who's interlaced their fingers. It's early, his dad probably hasn't even woken up and only weak, grey tinged light filters through his blinds. Derek's face is slack with sleep, and Stiles's chest is tight while his eyes trace the arch of his cheekbones and curve of his lips. Derek has always been beautiful, has been _his_ for years, and he's so sick of this, of the way the older man clutches him as if Stiles might up and walk out of his life forever. He's sick of how scared they both are of this, when it should be so much simpler than all the other things they've faced together.

He tries to get up without waking him, but Derek's hand clenches around his wrist, his eyes glowing red. "Shhh," Stiles soothes, "I'll come back. Go back to sleep." His eyes change back and he lets him go, rolling over so he can press his face into Stiles's pillow. Stiles gets dressed for a run, doing his best to keep his heartbeat slow until he hears Derek's breaths deepen back into sleep. He picks up his copy of Midsummer Night's Dream, the first book he and Derek ever read together, and tears out the title page. He knows what he wants to say, and scribbles it down even though his hand shakes.

Stile leaves it besides Derek, and heads downstairs before he can change his mind. He's only running on a couple hours of sleep, but he has enough nervous energy to at least bang out a few of miles before he heads back. The air feels wet and chilly on his skin, and he plays back the words he left behind with every step forward.

**i have loved you**

**so long and**

**so fiercely**

**it's taken me years**

**for me to realize**

**how in love with you**

**i am**

**i have no conception**

**of this kind of love**

**except for the way**

**i feel in your arms**

Stiles is easing into his third mile in the forest when he feels the warmth in center, and he frowns, slowing down to a walk. He's only half turned around when he's being pushed back and pressed against the nearest tree. "Dude!" he coughs, blinking. Derek's pinning his wrists against the tree, breathing hard with his head and shoulders bowed. Stiles wonders if he realizes he's only wearing his pajama bottoms. Like, he didn't even put on shoes. "What the hell?"

"Do you mean it?" he asks, and Stiles heartbeat starts going twice as fast.

He wants to touch Derek, to reassure him, but the only point of contact he's got going on right now is Derek's hands holding him down, and away. He swallows, "Of course I do. I - I wouldn't play with you that way. I'm in love with you, and I think you're in love with me too, so. I'm too young to get married, or whatever, but when I do, I want it to be with you."

Derek still won't look at him, and his grip has gone straight from restraining to bruising. "You - that's quite a commitment."

"Derek, come on," he says softly, "as if you and I could ever be anything less than forever. I know all your dark corners and tender spots, and you know mine. There's no one in the world who can compete." He chest is starting to hitch, and he still won't look at Stiles. "Come on, Derek, come here."

He lets go of his wrists, and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and presses kisses to his jugular. He pulls back and Derek finally meets his eyes, and his face is slack with wonder, as if Stiles's love for him is a miracle as opposed to an integral part of Stiles's existence. He's sweaty and gross, Derek's in nothing but his pajama bottoms, and they're in the middle of the woods, but he pushes himself up to slide his lips against Derek's. It only takes a second for the older man to get with the program, and then Stiles is being shoved back against the tree again. Derek's hands are gripping his hips and his tongue is his mouth, and fuck, this is nothing like what he's done before, this is Derek's hands and mouth, and Jesus fuck, it's the best feeling in the world.

At least until Derek crowds in closer, and god, they're both hard and he moans and bucks against Derek. There's a wonderful, perfect moment of friction between them before Derek jerks back. He doesn't get very far, because at this point someone's going to have to cut his arms off to get them from looped around Derek's neck.

He tugs, trying to bring Derek back, because he's shirtless and panting and flushed and his lips are bruised and slick from Stiles's lips, and he needs to get back over here right now. Derek cracks a grin, licking his lips, and it's possible Stiles said all that out loud. "Shouldn't," Stiles bites his bottom lip, and Derek blinks before continuing, "shouldn't we, uh, go slow? Slower?"

Stiles stares, because that stupidest shit he's ever heard. "We have. We've been taking it slow for almost seven years. You love me and you're beautiful and perfect and mine, so if you'd like to come closer now, that'd be awesome."

Derek rolls his eyes, but he does crowd in close enough that Stiles can shove his leg in between Derek's thighs. He gasps, and Stiles's smirks, shifts enough so that Derek whimpers. "Stiles," he pants, "I don't want our first time to be in the middle of my family's preserve an hour and half before you need to leave for school. Can we please try to be a little more romantic?"

Stiles bangs the back of his head against the tree, and at least the pain distracts him from the raging hard on in his pants. "I hate you. You're my least favorite person. I'm leaving you for Scott, he'd fuck me up against a tree."

Derek's hands spasm around his hips and a strangled noise comes out of his mouth. Stiles smirks, and Derek kisses him again, this time quick and sweet. "Just - tonight, okay? Come by the loft, I'll - we'll," and he huffs, blushing a bright red.

Stiles grins, because he always figured he'd be more the blushing virgin in this situation, considering he's the one who is the virgin, but this is actually so much better. "Fine, fine, although I demand that we have sex in the woods at some point." Derek buries his face in Stiles's neck, who sighs and scrapes his fingers through his werewolf's hair, "Can we at least make out some more?"

Derek opens his mouth against Stiles's neck, presses teeth and tongue against his skin, and _oh my god_.

 

"What happened?"

Stiles backs up a few step from Boyd, "Uh, what?"

"Oh my God," Erica laughs, "did you finally do it?"

His cheeks flush, "How did you - I just walked in -"

"Scott!" Erica calls down the crowded hallway, "Guess who finally got laid?"

"I didn't -" Stiles tries to protest, but Scott looks over from where he's chatting up Allison to grin and give him a thumbs up.

"About time dude!"

Stiles holds his head in his hands, but it's mostly to hide the grin stretching across his face. An arm winds around his waist and another is thrown over his shoulders, "Stiles."

He peeks out to look at Cory and Isaac on either side of him, and fuck, they _live with Derek_. They probably caught him as they were going out the door, and maybe Isaac might not have noticed, but no way in hell Cory didn't call it the second she saw him. "I don't want to hear it."

Isaac squeezes his shoulder and Cory goes on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, "We're really happy for you both."

Well, that's okay then.

 

_can i give you a blowjob i think i'd be good at it_

_Jesus Christ_

Stiles cackles, and Lydia rests her chin on his shoulder. "Making good use of your new relationship status?" The librarian is giving them dirty looks, but who the fuck actually studies in study hall.

"I'm going to have sex," he says cheerfully, and maybe he should be more embarrassed about this, except fuck no, he's getting laid. Derek's sure to be mortified later, it'll be hilarious.

Lydia giggles, "Congratulations." They share a glance, and Stiles tugs up her hand to kiss it. Things are more grave than ever after this last attack, whatever all this has been building up to is bound to occur at any moment.

But he gets to kiss Derek, and be kissed by Derek, and get sexy naked with Derek. He's watched enough romance movies with Lydia, he knows there should be more of a revelation here, that this should be a bigger deal. Like, finally being with the person you're in love with should be a huge fucking deal, and yet.

He risked his life to save Derek the first time he properly met him. He's been Derek's anchor for so long, and Derek has always been there for him. They've killed for each other, Stiles has actually died before, and they've loved each other since they were kids.

Stiles has known for years Derek is the most important person in his life, and that he's the most important person in Derek's. This, being together romantically, it's more about disregarding fear of failure than gaining anything that they didn't already have.

Except the sex. That's going to be awesome.

He sneaks a glance at the librarian before taking out his phone again. _i love you more than i love curly fries_

_I hold you more dearly than my own life_

Stiles shakes his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. _your life is more necessary to me than the air in my lungs_

_There is no one else who could love me as you do - I shudder at what my life would have been without you by my side_

Something seizes Stiles in his chest, and his hands shake as he types out, _fine you win you fucking asshole_

_< 3_

"Have you told your dad yet?" Jackson asks.

Stiles pokes at his lunch, "Dude, it happened this morning. I haven't even _seen_ my dad yet."

"He's going to be so proud of himself," Cory says, "He is literally going to be the happiest person in the world. I bet he wants a spring wedding."

Lydia opens her mouth to makes what Stiles assume is a snarky comment, but Scott comes up with Allison by his side. "Hi!" he says, beaming, "It's okay if Allison sits with us, right?"

"Of course," Lydia prods at Jackson until he makes enough room on the bench for both Scott and Allison.

"I didn't know you had this lunch," Erica says, "You could have been sitting with us for months!"

Allison clears her throat, "I usually eat lunch in the library."

There's a beat of silence before Jackson snorts, "Well that's a fucking waste. You're too pretty to let those nerds look at you. Look Allison, you're still kind of new, so I'll cut you some slack, but you should know that hot people hang out with hot people." He gestures to the entire table, "Clearly we are your people. Except for Stiles. I don't know why the fuck he's here."

"Asshole," Stiles throws his mostly stale bread roll at his head, which Jackson dodges.

Allison's giggling and relaxed though, and so Stiles just pouts.

 

Stiles is on his way up to the loft and he knows Isaac and Cory are hanging out at Danny's, but he's imagining Derek telling Peter to get lost so he can get laid, and image is so funny that's he's almost hysterically laughing by the time he lets himself into Derek's loft.

"You okay?" the older man asks, looking up from the book he's reading on the couch.

"Peter's face," Stiles gasps before dropping his bag and climbing on top of Derek to straddle his lap. His book falls to the floor and his hands settle on Stiles's hips. Stiles's smile is swallowed by Derek's lips, and it's so good, their lips dragging against each other with hints of tongue and teeth. Derek nips his bottom lip and Stiles hisses and bucks, pressing their hips together.

Derek gasps, breaking the kiss. Stiles kisses along his jaw, snapping their hips together again. "Stiles, are you sure? We don't have to do anything."

Stiles whines, leaning his forehead against Derek's. "Dude, don't fuck with me here. If _you_ want to wait, okay, but if you're holding out for me, that's really fucking dumb."

"I just feel like we're going so fast," Derek says, kissing him quick and light, "It hasn't even been a day."

Stiles sighs, "What are we supposed to be waiting for? I love you. I'm in love with you. I trust you with my life, the lives of my friends and family, _of course_ I trust you with my body. You are the only person I ever want to touch me this way, I want to marry you, live with you, you are my endgame. You are the love of my life, what am I supposed to be waiting for? Love, trust, affection, attraction? I already have all those!"

Derek response is a brutal kiss and his hands around Stiles's thighs, surging to his feet and heading up the stair case with Stiles's legs locked around his waist. "Rawr, Caveman Derek," Stiles laughs when Derek drops him on the bed.

"Less talking, more stripping," Derek says, unbuttoning his jeans. Stiles rolls his eyes and does as he's told, laying back on the bed when he's done. Derek's naked, and Stiles appreciates the view with the light shining through the windows and framing him. "You're beautiful."

"Look who's talking," Stiles says.

Derek slithers on top of him, all lean muscle and warm skin. "You still have your boxers on," he says before sucking the beginning of hickey onto Stiles's stomach.

"Ridiculous teenage fantasy number thirty nine," he moans when Derek's lips drag across his skin, "take them off with your teeth." Derek laughs, but pushes himself down and tugs the underwear off just enough for Stiles dick to pop free. There's this beat where Derek just doesn't move, and Stiles is about to ask if he's okay, or maybe if they should answer his phone which has already gone off twice, when Derek's mouth goes down on his dick and _holy shit_. "Derek - aahh - you - oh, oh god." Stiles pants and runs his fingers through Derek's hair, one of Derek's broad hands around the base while his head bobs. "Oh god, oh god, fuck, Derek!"

Derek slides off his dick with a violent pop, and his lips are red spit slick and fucking hell. "How did you - do you want to -"

"Yes," Stiles pants, "to whatever. Derek, when I said I trust you with my body I meant it. Whichever way you're more comfortable, I'm good with."

Derek kisses Stiles's hip, " _I'm_ good with whatever you're comfortable with."

"Excellent," Stiles grins, "fuck me?"

Derek chokes on air, "You - you're really sure -"

"Dude," he says, "I'm so fucking sure."

He laughs, shaking his head even as he reaches over to the side table and finds the lube, knocking the vibrating phone on the floor, "As you wish."

"Don't you quote The Princess Bride to me you giant assho - ooOOH!" Derek's mouth is back on Stiles dick, but now lube slick fingers are pressing between his cheeks and slowly pressing into him. It's uncomfortable, but almost easy to ignore with Derek's mouth between his legs. "Fuck, fuck, Derek," his head is tossed back and the hand that's not on Derek's head is twisted into the bed sheets. He doesn't know how long later it is when  Derek hums and he has two finger inside him now, is working in a third, and that's kind of uncomfortable, but not enough that's it's going to stop the orgasm he can feel building. "Derek - Derek I'm going to-" he cuts himself with a moan, because Derek's taking as much of his dick as he can without chocking, and the burn of the three fingers in his ass is turning into something far more pleasant. He comes down Derek's throat and makes high, stuttering, gasping sounds that he'd be embarrassed by if this didn't feel so fucking good. "Jesus. You're amazing."

Derek's intently leaving a trail of hickeys around Stiles's hips, his fingers still moving inside him. "I want to make you come every day for the rest of my life."

Stiles's mouth goes dry, "I won't stop you." He moves his hand down to cup Derek's jaw, wiping off bit of his own come from the corner of his lover's mouth. "Come on, I'm ready."

Derek swallows, moving off so Stiles can turn onto his stomach and spread his legs. He hears the sound of Derek covering his dick in more lube, before his warm heavy body settles on top of his, his dick sliding between his ass cheeks. "Promise to tell me if something hurts?" he asks.

Stiles turns his head to kiss Derek, slow and easy, "I promise."

His body is already heave and loose from his orgasm, so when Derek pushes his cock into Stiles it's a strange feeling but not an unpleasant one. Derek makes a strangled noise but continues until he's buried to the hilt in Stiles's ass. "Okay?" he gasps.

Stiles's breathing is coming hard and fast, and thank fuck for being seventeen, because while the sensation isn't enough to get him hard again, the _idea_ of Derek inside him definitely is, "God, yes, move."

Derek grunts, moving slowly at first but gaining confidence at the moans dribbling out of Stiles's mouth. He's pinning Stiles down by the shoulders while he fucks into him. Stiles's whole body is jerking with the force of Derek's thrust, so his dick is getting enough friction to drive him insane. Derek collapses on top of him, breath hot against his neck while he snaps his hips at a ferocious pace. Stiles knows he's close, and tilts his head to mouth at Derek's neck. "Fuck, Derek, this is so good, you're so good, I love you so much." His smooth thrusts begin to stutter so Stiles's drags his tongue and lips over his neck, saying, "I love you, I love you so much - ah! Oh god, you feel so fucking amazing Derek, I love you. Only you, I want - oh, OH, aaahh - I want to - Jesus fuck - to only ever be with you, I love you, I - Oh god, fuck, Derek you're wonderful, I love you." Derek snarls when he comes, his human teeth latching on to the side Stiles's neck, biting down hard and Stiles comes unexpectedly enough that he forgets to breath,  his vision goes white, and the only sensation he's aware of is Derek's teeth on his neck and the small, jerky thrust Derek manages as he rides out both their orgasms.

When he comes back down, Derek's sliding out of him but spooning up behind him. He can feel Derek's come leaking out of his ass, and that should be gross but instead it's kind of stupidly hot. Derek's arms wrap around him, and they slot together just as well as they always have, except this time it's after crazy awesome sex.

"That was awesome," Stiles says brightly, bringing up Derek's hand to kiss his knuckles.

Derek grunts, dragging his nose up Stiles's neck to kiss his ear, "You're amazing."

Stiles turns in Derek's arm so he can kiss him softly, "You're ridiculous."

Derek kisses his forehead, "You - you're dangerous. I figured we'd go slow and easy, but -"

He laughs, "Yeah, no. Next time we can make sweet love, but this was the result of so many hours of pent up sexual tension."

There's a grin curling the corners of Derek's lips and a gentle light in his eye, and Stiles loves Derek all the time in all of his moods, but he thinks this one is his favorite. Derek's phone starts vibrating again, and Stiles groans, pushing at Derek's shoulder. "Go on, answer it, we won't get any peace until you do."

Derek rolls his eyes, but reaches over to grab his phone, "What?" Stiles's hand is splayed against Derek's chest, so the kick in his heartbeat lets him know that something is wrong even before Derek starts demanding an explanation and rolling to his feet. Stiles stands, but winces at the sensation and heads straight to bathroom - whatever is going on can give him two minutes so that's he's not covered in sweat and come. He scrubs as quick as he can, and there's a pair of his dark jeans and one of Derek's black henleys on the counter for him when he gets out. A little colorless for his taste, but he pulls them on and is toweling his hair off when he walks back into the bedroom, Derek just putting on his shoes. "Hey," he says, "we have to go."

"I figured," he says, pulling on his own shoes even while he curses the universe for not even giving him the time for some decent afterglow. "What's going on?"

Derek clasps their hands together and tugs them to the door, "The werewolves have made their move - and it's a weird as fuck move, but everyone's in the clearing in the preserve. Let's go."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stiles looks around and his pack is still alive, but exhausted, "What the fuck is this?"

There's a clear space in middle, the rouge werewolves on one side, and his pack and Talia's on the other. Allison and her father stand off to the side, with a hand to their gun and bow respectively. Right now Lydia and Jackson are facing a wolf and what Stiles supposes some people might consider an emissary. They clearly outmatch them, but it's also equally clear this isn't the first round they've fought. They win, Lydia setting fire to the emissary until he calls for mercy and Jackson's hands wrapped around the wolf's throat. The losers limp out of the field, but before other wolves can be sent in their place, Stiles is striding across the field. "Enough! What is the meaning of this?"

His eyes glow silver, and an alpha steps out of the crowd. "Finally, we can begin. I tire of these games. The High Mage is here - the competition may commence!"

"What competition?" Stiles growls, and Danny and Lydia at his shoulder give him more comfort than it probably should.

"We have all felt the emergence of a High Alpha - we are here to challenge him for his position! Us and our emissary against him and his. It was assumed that was you."

"Derek's a high alpha?" Cora says, and the skeptical tone of her voice would be insulting, except from the look on his face, Derek agrees with her.

Laura flicks her hair back, "Well, we already know it's not me or Mom."

Stiles knows who it is, and he flickers his gaze around the mass of wolves and the groups of magic users sequestered among them. "That was what called you here? The emergence of a High Alpha?"

The alpha snarls, his face twisting, "Why else would we all gather? We are not nature spirits boy, we don't come for you."

"Well at least this isn't all my fault," he mutters, before saying, "We will meet your challenge. Ten minutes to consult with my pack."

"Fine," he says evenly before turning back to the wolves.

Stiles rolls his eyes, walking over and grabbing both Lydia and Jackson's hands, "I'm so, so sorry we kept you waiting. We didn't - I didn't - We are both so sorry we didn't answer the first time you called."

Lydia smirks, "Relax, it's fine. Jackson and I are the only ones that have even fought yet, and to be honest it's kind of fun beating these arrogant assholes into the dirt. You have seen who they're trying to pass off as emissaries?"

"Pathetic," he agrees, nearly weak at her forgiveness, but turns to Jackson with pleading eyes.

He holds up his hands, "Dude, you were getting laid by your hot boyfriend. For the first time. Only literal life or death situation are a good reason to interrupt that shit."

Stiles blinks, "Wasn't this a life or death situation?"

Jackson looks over at the other group before scoffing and rolling his eyes, "Don't insult us."

Stiles grins before clapping his hands and turning his attention to group huddled around him. "Stiles," Talia says, eye flashing red, "what's going on?"

"Well," he says, "for the first time, my magic is not to blame here! So there's that."

"Stiles," Kevin growls.

He sighs, "They're here to challenge the authority of the new High Alpha."

"There hasn't been a high alpha in hundreds of years," Peter says, "and I doubt it's any of us. Pretty sure we would have noticed."

"You have. There's a reason Talia's been avoiding our pack, although she wasn't aware of it," he says. "She been avoiding the High Alpha as a sign of respect." Scott is shaking his head, eyes wide, but they can't avoid this anymore, they really can't. "The last time there was a high alpha," Stiles says quietly, "was probably the same time as there was last a high mage."

"I'm going to kill Deaton," Scott says, and Stiles grins.

"That man is incapable of giving the whole story, isn't he?" Stiles holds out his hand, and Scott  sighs before taking it, tucking himself close to Stiles so his best friend can cup his face. "It's time to face the music."

Scott nods, and Stiles closes his eyes and reaches for his magic. He's shocked at what he finds, how quiet his magic is here, and oh, this explains not enough, but some of it, he knows what to do, how to gain back the power that's been just outside his reach for so long. But first things first. He reaches for the lock he placed on Scott, now well aware that while the magic is simple, he's the only one who could do such a thing. He takes a deep breath before breaking it and letting his magic flow into Scott, let's the light magic that is his birth right awaken the dark magic that has lain dormant in Scott's blood. He awakens the werewolf Scott was always intended to be, the mantel of leader that was always his to control. He hears gasps around them, and when he opens his eyes Scott's eyes are red but he looks human besides that, because his true authority comes not from his ability to kill but in his ability to harness power.

"All hail," Stiles says, eyes pure silver, "High Alpha Scott McCall, leader to all creatures whom dark magic resides in their lifeblood."

"All hail," Scott says, eyes glowing red, "High Mage Stiles Stillinski, emissary to the earth itself, and to all those whom are sustained by its magic."'

There's silence, everyone looking at them but not quite sure what to do. Derek clears his throat, says, "I, Alpha Derek Hale, officially declare my allegiance and that of my pack to High Alpha Scott McCall."

Talia sighs, "I, Alpha Talia Hale, officially declare my allegiance and that of my pack to High Alpha Scott McCall."

Stiles flicks his gaze over to Lydia, because he has a different part to play in this, and she nods and says, "I, Second in Command of the Beacon Hill Coven, officially declare my allegiance and that of my coven to High Alpha Scott McCall."

He's ready to say his piece when Allison strides forward, "Wait!" Scott turns to her, but doesn't move from his spot in front of Stiles even when Allison goes to his side and curls her hand over his shoulder. "Do you swear to be a force of good in the world?"

"I swear," he says seriously.

She smiles then, and Stiles has never seen Allison afraid except in this moment. She leans on her tip toes to press her mouth to Scott's, and it's so chaste and sweet Stiles is pretty sure he just got a toothache. Scott's lost any appearance of regality he had and looks more like someone just hit him with a two by four. Allison steps back and clears her throat before saying, "I, Allison Argent, Matriarch of the Argent Clan, officially declare my allegiance and that of my clan to High Alpha Scott McCall."

Chris is shaking his head, but he's also smiling, so Stiles doesn't think Allison just shot herself in the foot too badly.

"Dude," Scott says, smiling wide enough to break his face.

"Totally," Stiles agrees before straightening his back and saying, "I am the High Mage, I hold authority over all that is light in this world. I walk this path with you, not against you."

"I am the High Alpha," Scott says solemnly, and Stiles feels like their entire lives were leading up to this point. "I hold authority over all that is dark in this world. I walk this path with you, not against you."

The earth shakes beneath their feet without actually moving at all, and Stiles wonders how long it's been not only since a High Mage and a High Alpha have been in the same place at the same time, but trusted each other enough to swear fealty to the other. They turn back to their friends, and the twin looks of disbelief and resignation on everyone's face is hilarious. "Your magic is grounded again," Danny says, grimacing the way he always does when connected to the earth's ley lines.

"I needed a powerful anchor," Stiles says, nudging his best friend.

Scott rolls his shoulders back, wincing, "Seriously. I don't know if you guys know this, but being connected to an entire side of magic sucks. How the hell did you do this for so long?"

"I didn't," Stiles grumbles, "I just didn't use it except for emergencies, mountain ash, and coffee. It sucked." He holds out his hand and summons the magic to dance across his skin, streams of silver energy that he effortlessly calls and suppresses. When he looks up, his smile is probably a little vicious, "This isn't going to take long."

"There's over a hundred of them," Kevin says.

Scott and Stiles look at each other, feel the power that each of them is holding to their command, and smirk before repeating in unison, "This isn't going to take long."

"Your ten minutes has passed," the alpha calls, "it is time to begin."

"That's our cue," Stiles says, but before he can walk away Derek grabs him by the upper arms and pulls him in for a near violent kiss. Stiles returns it, twisting his hands in the material of his boyfriend's shirt.

Derek kisses his forehead when they separate, "Come back to me."

"Always," he promises, giving Derek a quick peck before moving beside Scott, a werewolf and emissary already waiting for them.

"I'm insulted," Scott mutters, "This one's not even an alpha."

"You're insulted?" Stiles scoffs, "Look at what a sad excuse for a magic user they've paired her with."

"Stop bitching and let's fight," the werewolf snarls. They roll their eyes.

"Begin!" the alpha calls out.

 

 It's close to midnight, but the area is still well lit thanks to the torches Danny keeps summoning from the ground and the fire Lydia seems more than happy to provide. It's only in the last two hours that they've faced anyone worth note. Stiles understands the strategy of wearing them down, and it might have even been effective back when Stiles didn't have full control of his powers, or before he was a high mage. But now, while he's physically pretty tired, he's still magically in peak condition. He's not sure if these emissaries are really that bad, or he's just so used to dealing with powerful people that he's a poor judge of ability. Scott, thanks to his werewolf upgrade, is as fresh as daisy. Their pack has taken turns going for food and water runs - except for Allison and Derek, who have both refused to take their eyes of their boyfriends. Stiles and Scott think that's the cutest thing ever, but haven't yet dared to inform them of that.

"Do you think they've figured out a this is a huge waste of time yet?" Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs, "I mean, you'd think. None of them are going to beat us, although there's some that are definitely strong enough to get a few good hits. Maybe they  have to finish it as an honor thing?"

"Well I wish they'd hurry up," Scott whines, "I'm hungry." He freezes, "Stiles, I smell your dad."

"What?" Stiles snaps, "That's impossible."

Except the wolves are starting to stare at a particular cluster of trees, and of course this is how it happens, that's his life. There's another pair being pushed towards them, but Stiles just throws a ball of sparking magic at both of them, because he has more important things to worry about. When his dad walks into the clearing, he stops, taking it all in until his eyes land on his son. "Stiles," he says slowly, eyes continuously flickering to the rows of bodies, and  none of them are dead, just knocked out, he doubts Dad can see that from so far away. He probably got called her about someone disturbing the peace, and he finds this instead.

"The first rule of fight club is not to talk about fight club," Stiles says. Scott laughs, but Kevin and Talia put their head in their hands.

"John," Peter says cheerfully, "I believe it's time a few things are explained to you, please do not be alarmed by anything that you see."

Stiles is so focused on his dad, he would have gotten his chest speared by claws if Scott hadn't reached forward and broke the wolf's wrist before elbowing him so hard in the face he falls unconscious just from that.

"Stiles!" Derek yells, "Pay attention!"

Dad's face is white and his hand is on his gun, but Stiles shakes his head, "Dad, I'm sorry, but it's going to be okay. I need to finish this up, and Peter will explain what he can, okay?"

Dad clearly has no idea what the fuck is going on, but Stiles loves him forever for the way he shrugs and says, "Be safe," before sitting down next to Peter.

"Are we done with your family drama?" a witch drawls, and Stiles sets her hair on fire just because. She snarls, but it doesn't faze her much, which is kind of cool, but considering how easily she folds under some Gaelic pain hexes, he's not too impressed.

He keeps glancing at his dad in between battles, just a little relieved when Cory shoves her dad out of the way to sit by the Sheriff instead. Dad loves Cory, is convinced she's the only levelheaded friend he has, although Stiles doesn't think he's really gotten a chance to know Boyd yet.

"This is getting ridiculous," Stiles says, dodging a curse by moving six inches to the left, "There's no pair of them that can beat us. If a hundred emissaries and werewolves came at us once - yeah, that'd be a problem-"

"I still think we could win," Scott tilts his head to the side, to avoid a punch, before reaching out and wrenching the alpha's arms out of both their sockets and scratching bloody gashes down his chest. Stiles winces at the sharp uppercut that knocks the him out. The amount of force Scott has to be putting behind those to knock out the alphas is ridiculous.

Stiles shrugs, knocking over the magic user and keeping him pinned with his magic. Ha! Take that Scott, no hands. "What's even the point of this?"

"The point," the alpha from earlier says, and Stiles should probably try learning these guys' names, except he doesn't care, "is that teenage bitten wolf who hasn't even been turned for a _year_ is in no way qualified to be a High Alpha. It's an insult to us all. You are not worthy."

Stiles squints, "You're a baby boomer, aren't you?"

The alpha snarls, "We'll see how smart your mouth is after you've faced me, boy."

"There's no one else left," Scott says, twisting his head around, "We've beaten everyone else."

Stiles takes a quick glance around, and Scott's right, awesome. Granted, it's around two and the morning, but still. "You really think you can beat us? Alone?"

"I'm not alone," the alpha says.

A woman walks out of the woods, and when Stiles sees her he almost swallows his tongue. "Morrell?"

"You know her?" Scott asks, and Stiles swallows.

"Yeah," he says, shifting closer to Scott as the two stand in front of them, "She's Alan's little sister."

"What?" Scott says, mouth dropping open.

Stiles ignores him for now, "Why are you doing this? Does Alan know?"

"I don't answer to my brother," she says, "and I happen to agree. I hardly think two upstart teenagers have a right to such titles."

"They are our birthright," Scott says.

"Some people," she says, "are not born so fortunate, and must earn their power."

Stiles thinks of the hours of training and years of practice it took him to harness his magic, of slitting his throat on Derek's claws and giving his life to the earth, giving her his magic and blood and soul, and he wants to smack Morrell for her insolence. "You're a powerful druid, Morrell, but I don't think this is going to end in your favor."

"Enough chatter," the alpha snarls, and jumps forward to attack Scott.

Stiles leaves them to it, facing Morrell, and on one hand he wants to drag this out, a proper final battle for the months of gathering wolves and hunters and worry. But Scott's clearly playing with the alpha, waiting on Stiles's lead, and what he wants more than anything is to go home and be with his pack and his family, to curl up in Derek's arms and kiss him like they have all the time in the world, because he's waited long enough for that. So he reaches into Morrell, feels the shifting of her power, and clenches a fist over it, chocking if from her access. She falls to her knees, eyes wide, because somehow no one ever seems to understand what being a High Mage actually means, and he crouches beside her. Her hands are wrapped around her torso, and he knows what it's like to cut off from your power, how it's like walking around starving with a full stomach. "You may surpass me in other areas," he says evenly, "but here, with magic, I am not to be trifled with. I may not have earned my power, but I have earned my skill with it, and you will not be the one to take my position from me. Do you yield?" 

He squeezes her magic a little tighter, and she nods, "I yield to you, High Mage."

Stiles releases her, and the color returns to her face. Scott's holding the alpha by his throat, and he says, "Yield? Because I could snap your neck, but I could also not."

"Yield," the alpha says, glancing at Morrell.

Scott lets them go, and passes his gaze over all the wolves and their emissaries and says, "I and my emissary have indulged you, but we will do so no longer. You have six hours to leave northern California, or you shall not find us so lenient."

They turn, finally going back towards their pack, and they can hear the wolves start to leave. "Well said," Stiles praises. Scott doesn't get a chance to respond, because at that moment Allison launches herself at him, both of them falling to the ground, and Derek scoops Stiles in his arms and spins him around, planting kisses all over his face before finally landing one on his mouth.

"Are you sure you're still not dating?"

Stiles grins, pulling away from Derek to be grabbed by his dad in a bear hug, "It's new."

"How new?" He's hugging Stiles so hard it's almost hurts, but it's also amazing, so Stiles just hugs back equally hard.

"This morning," he says, and they're facing each other now, but Dad still has his hands gripping his biceps. Stiles swallows, "Did Peter -"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his hand to cup his son's face, "and Cory did her best to make it sound less terrifying than I'm sure it actually was, so there's credit to her. You're really-" Stiles eyes leak silver, and his dad doesn't recoil or flinch or do anything besides sigh. "Kid, I'm only going to ask this once - how many times, exactly, have you reenacted the Mickey Mouse scene from Fantasia when I've asked you to clean something?"

Stiles tries to scowl and grin at same time, and it doesn't quite work, "I made those dishes fucking sparkle."

 

It's nearly seven in the morning, and their house is filled with sleeping teenagers, minus Derek who's still curled up in Stiles's bed. Stiles and his dad are sitting on the porch, a cup of conjured steaming coffee in each of their hands.

"So," Dad rubs his hand over his eyes, "let's see if I got this straight. You discovered you were a mage when you were ten and used magic to save the Hales. Werewolves are real, and make up most of your friends. Deaton, the town vet, is also an - emissary? Emissary to the Hale Pack, all of whom are werewolves except for Mark and Cory. You trained Lydia Martin and Danny Mahealani as witches, and now they're part of your coven. Then Derek became an alpha and Scott got turned, which happened after you became a high mage, and then Peter and Cory joined his pack, as did your coven, Scott, Jackson Whittimore, and Isaac Lahey, the latter two who Derek bit after he became an Alpha. Then the Argents came, who were also the people responsible for the Hale fire, and are an entire family of werewolf hunters. Their leader is Allison Argent, Scott's new girlfriend, and Cory is unofficially a member, seeing as she's been training with them for the past few months, but it primarily still a member of Derek's pack. Then Scott became a high alpha, which is like your complement. Two sides of the same coin kind of deal. That is the general timeline of general events?"

Stiles takes a sips of his coffee, "It sounds insane when you lay it out like that."

"You're telling me," he mutters, "Why couldn't you have secrets like a normal kid, you know, sneaking out to go to parties or have sex?" Stiles immediately grins, and tries to calm it down, but judging from Dad's groan he doesn't do a very good job, "Seriously, Stiles?"

"Safe, sane, and consensual," he promises.

"Jesus, kid," he throws his arm around Stiles's shoulders, "for the record, all of this scares the crap out of me, and I'm not happy you hid it from me, but I'm also really proud of you too. God, if your mom could see you now - she'd be so proud of you, of this brilliant young man you've turned out to be."

Stiles leans his head on his dad's shoulder, and hopes he can't tell how wet his eyes are, "Thank you."

Dad kisses the top of his head, and they sit together and wait for the rest of the house to wake up.

 

"He has to make a move soon," Allison insists.

Jackson scoffs, "Have you met the kid? If anyone's making any moves, it's going to be her."

"Interrupting something?" Stiles asks, pushing Scott over so that he join them and figure out why his pack members are having secret Starbucks meetings without him.

"We're talking about Isaac and Cory," Danny says, reaching over to grab some of Stiles's cookie. "Now that you and Derek have gotten together, and so have Allison and Scott, it's their turn."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way," Stiles says, fruitlessly trying to slap Danny's hand away from his cookie.

"Nonsense," Lydia scoffs, "besides, summer starts in another month, and then we're giving them until Cory goes off to college to figure it out, then we're magically locking them in a closet and not letting them go until they make out."

"Did you ever think Cory going to college might be why they haven't done anything yet? Long distance is hard. Peter's already getting separation anxiety, and she hasn't even left yet," Stiles says, taking a sip of his latte.

Scott shrugs, "You and Derek managed just fine while he was in New York. They'll be fine."

Stiles want to argue more that that's not the point, but then his phone goes off. _Meet me in the loft, I want to show you something_

"Lover boy?" Danny grins.

"How's your flavor of the month?" Stiles asks, even as he gets to his feet.

"Try flavor of the fortnight," Jackson mutters, and laughs when Danny throws his napkin at his face. "Say hi to Derek for us!"

"No one likes any of you!" Stiles calls back on his way out.

 

"Derek, is the blindfold really necessary?"

Derek's hands are on his shoulders, guiding him up to the attic in the loft, "Yes. If I just told you to close your eyes, you'd peek." Stiles grumbles, but doesn't deny it. Derek halts him, and he says, "This past summer, Isaac found me painting. He said that if I didn't want to muster the courage to tell you that I was in love you, I could just show you these."

He takes off the blindfold, and Stiles gasps. There are a scattering of paintings of him, an entire wall of sketches that Derek has done of him over the years. There's pages of Derek practicing the curve of his smile and length of his fingers. "I finished this one yesterday," he turns Stiles, and god, he can't breathe. It's him casting a spell, his stance strong and straight with his arm flung out at an arrogant tilt as wisps of magic float from his fingers. His eyes are glowing silver, but his mouth is stretched wide, the prankster grin he's been told he got from his mother. It should be at odds with the seriousness of the rest of him, but it's perfect, because it's not just a high mage, it's _him_. Behind him is a city on fire, but there's a trailing path of silver, where Stiles has stepped sprouts shining flowers and plants. He walks through fire and leaves life and hope in his wake.

"Oh my God," he chokes, "Derek - is this how you see me?"

Derek cups his cheeks, wiping away the tears running down his face with his thumbs and saying with complete seriousness, "This is how you've always been."

Stiles sobs, he can't help it, there are literally no words for this, so he pulls Derek down so he can slide their lips together. Derek is his joy, and this is his greatest and simplest pleasure - kissing the man he loves.

**Author's Note:**

> The wink and a nod to Supernatural was for fun and probably wont go anywhere, you literally have no idea how many wildly different outlines I had for this story, and I don't think I'm quite done with this universe yet, but nano is starting, so this is probably it for a while.
> 
> If you want to irritate/harass/send me prompts, you can do so at: shanastoryteller.tumblr.com


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